


Professional Interests

by seki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: Ignis's latest client is a fascinating, intense young man, and frankly Ignis suspects he was probably doomed from the very start.Written for Noctis's birthday, 2017, and the rest of this will follow soon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set in the 'verse of Firefly/Serenity. I could have timed writing this AU better, given the recent furore over Whedon's behaviour to his ex-wife, but rubbing off the serial numbers and pretending this story wasn't set in that universe seemed dishonest.
> 
> For yukiscorpio, as always.

Ignis rarely makes house calls. He has use of a shared apartment for conducting professional work in, and most clients prefer to meet him there for their sessions. Still, house calls are an option, and this client is paying a premium for it. Ignis tugs at his cuffs one last time, deliberately assumes a faint smile so as not to look as stern as his face sometimes can, and then knocks on the door.

It's answered immediately.

The young man opening the door is shorter than Ignis; his face pretty and oval, his hair dark and carefully styled. He looks a little uncertain, like most first-time clients, his expression more cautious than welcoming. Ignis has received clear instructions. Yes, this is _Prince_ Noctis, lately of Newhall. Specific request to be called 'Noctis' and not 'Your Highness' during the session. Treat him as you would treat any client: with respect and kindness, but not too much deference.

And _definitely_ don't make too much of a deal out of the whole border-world warlord aspect.

Simple enough. Noctis doesn't look very much at all like Ignis's vague idea of a warlord, and Ignis isn't easily intimidated anyway.

"Hello," Ignis says. "I believe you're expecting me? I'm Ignis."

"Right. Uh. Come in."

Ignis follows the Prince inside. The open-plan apartment is vastly spacious and modern, with a large TV screen on one wall and two plush sofas in front of it. There are huge windows that let out onto a balcony with a quite spectacular view over the lakes of the central parks. It's probably the most expensive home Ignis has ever set foot in, and these days that's quite the bar to leap.

"I'm Noctis," Noctis says, and sits down heavily on one of the sofas. "Uh. And I'm not… I don't really…"

"You're not accustomed to Companions?" Ignis guesses.

"Right, not many of them to go around back where I'm from." Noctis rubs at the back of his neck. "I'm probably not gonna jump into bed with you, okay."

Ignis nods, politely. Some clients say things like that and mean they have no interest in sex. Some clients say it and mean 'I want sex, but I'd like to be seduced into it'. And some clients want to size up a Companion before they decide one way or another. So Ignis nods, and he'll figure out which iteration this is as the evening progresses. It certainly wouldn't be any hardship to go to bed with Noctis, who despite his obvious uncertainty is quite one of the most physically attractive clients Ignis can recall ever having.

"No offense to you, I'm sure you're great, I just, that's not what I want."

"I'm a Companion, Noctis. Sex is only one of many possible ways we could spend our time together. I'm here to provide whatever you choose. So what would you like to do?"

Some of the tenseness has gone out of Noctis's posture. "Er. I don't know."

"I can cook, or provide massage, or play you some music, or simply converse. Whatever you'd like."

"Do you like games?"

"I'm trained in playing many classical games, and can provide a good challenge in any number of more modern boardgames too."

"Iron Fist?"

Ignis blinks, and then smiles, amused. "And I'd be happy to take you on at Iron Fist, definitely."

"Yeah?" Noctis grins at him, obviously pleased, and gestures to the other sofa. "Awesome."

It's been a few years since Ignis has played any sort of fighting game on a console, and as a result he rather flubs the first few rounds they play. By the fourth, however, he's starting to remember the rhythm of games of this sort, and very clearly surprises Noctis by managing to execute a very elaborate throw move before following it up with a flurry of linked attacks that Noctis's slower character can't defend against.

"Damn," Noctis says as the KO comes up on screen, and laughs. "Were you going easy on me before?"

"Merely getting used to the controls."

"So now you're ready for a real fight, huh?" Noctis picks a different character on the options screen, a petite girl with a polearm. "Alright then. It's on."

Ignis gets flattened this time, but not _so_ badly as to be dispiriting, and he forces the round after that to a much closer contest. Noctis seems happy that he's being challenged, so Ignis makes an effort and doesn't merely aim to be consistently _just_ worse than Noctis -- he tries his best, and wins about one in every three rounds.

Noctis tosses the controller aside after some time and says, "Alright, drink time. You want anything? I got soda, water, juice--"

"Ebony?" Ignis asks, hopefully. 

"Uh, I'll look." Noctis crosses over to the impressive kitchen that takes up a quarter of the room, opens the fridge, peers inside. "No Ebony, but I've got Velvet if you want coffee?"

"That would be fine, thank you."

Noctis comes back with a can of some fruity soda for himself and a can of Velvet. "So, I guess this is probably one of the weirder evenings you've gotten, huh."

"I'm not permitted to discuss the particulars of what my clients request, Noctis, but if every client who thought their request was the most unusual I'd heard gave me a dollar, I'd have… oh, forty-seven dollars or thereabouts."

Noctis grins. "Ha."

"A lot of clients hire Companions for conversation and company. If someone merely wants sex, you can hire someone a lot cheaper than one of my peers."

"Well, sure, but you guys _are_ trained in sex stuff, so presumably they're paying for you being, well, _better_ than an escort."

"I'd certainly like to think so," Ignis says. "But I'm hardly in a position to know."

"But this is okay? Just hanging out?"

"As long as you're content, it's more than okay. This evening is about what you want."

"Good." Noctis takes another swig of the drink. "Then let's get back to it."

All in all, it's a remarkably swift and _easy_ few hours Ignis spends in the Prince's apartment. There's little hardship in playing a casual videogame like this, especially when one's opponent is wry and seems to genuinely take pleasure in the play. Ignis enjoys himself enough that his discreet five-minute-warning alarm is a genuine surprise to him.

Noctis sees him to the door. "Thanks," he says, lingering in the open doorway. "For not making this awkward, I mean. I had fun."

"As did I." Ignis bows, in the formal way he does at the end of most sessions. "Thank you, Noctis."

"Okay. Um. Bye then."

\--

Ignis fidgets with his cuffs, and then smiles as Noctis opens the door. "Hello."

"Hi. C'mon in."

The console is on; the screen shows the splash screen already. The controllers are on the sofas. It's odd, to Ignis, that the Prince would ask him back after their initial session. But the Prince had reportedly marked the session as very satisfactory, so Ignis is sure he hadn't misstepped the previous time. Hiring a high-end Companion to be an opponent in videogames is a strange way for someone to spend their money. But not unwelcome.

"I bought a new racing game," Noctis says, pulling open the fridge. "How's your driving?"

"Reasonable."

Noctis hands Ignis an Ebony -- how sweet of him to remember -- and they do a few slow practise circuits in the game. It's one of the type with hyper-realistic graphics, which means the cars are sleek and glamorous and the course landscape is a stunning wind through tall forests and jagged mountains.

"Cool," Noctis says, "you ready to do this properly?"

"Dispense with the training wheels? Absolutely."

Noctis laughs, and laughs several more times in the next two minutes as Ignis crashes into a succession of trees, barriers, and other cars. "Wow," he says, as Ignis's rather battered car crosses the final barrier tail-first. "You are _awful_. Like, really bad at this."

"My apologies."

"No, it's great. As long as you're not just humouring me here."

"Oh, I assure you," Ignis says, with entire sincerity, "I'm actually this dreadful."

It's a good thing Noctis is enjoying Ignis's ineptitude, because Ignis's skills do not improve much over the next hour or so. Ignis deliberately and with exaggerated care sets down the controller after his car skids off a bridge and fireballs down into a canyon below, his most spectacular crash yet.

"The strange thing is," he notes, enunciating every word, "is that I was nearly licensed to _teach_ driving at one point."

Noctis hoots with laughter, a genuine belly-laugh at that, and gets up. He pats Ignis on the shoulder, amicably, as he crosses over to the fridge. "I was raised on horses, but I gotta admit cars are a big benefit to being here on Sihnon. Another Ebony?"

"Please. And thank you for recalling my taste."

"Oh, no problem." Noctis smiles at him. "You're a guest in my house, after all."

"Well, certainly, but one you paid for."

Noctis pauses, the fridge door half-open. "Uh. Well, not technically."

"...pardon?"

Noctis grabs the cans, kicks the door closed behind him. "You know who I am. And where we live, here? I'm… influential. Or so people think. And I used to turn down every gift I got given here, until I got told, actually, no, you are _offending_ people. It's not making you look unbribable, it's making you look rude."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you," and Noctis hands Ignis the can, "are one of the gifts I can't turn down."

Ignis takes the can, considering that. "So you're saying I'm an unwelcome gift."

"No, I mean, ah." Noctis sits. "A subscription in my name to your Companion House was a gift, and one I apparently can't just let sit there unused because that's just as bad as refusing it. So I picked out a Companion, and here you are."

"Twice."

"Once people knew I had a subscription, they gave me credit chits for your House. I've got a lot of it stored up." Noctis shrugs. "Do you mind? That I'm not paying for you to be here?"

Ignis considers this. "Honestly? No."

"No?"

"I'm being handsomely compensated to come here, regardless of whose money it is. And this--" Ignis gestures, with the can, towards the screen, "spending time with an attractive man, is hardly hard work."

Noctis pulls a face. "Don't do that."

"Pardon?"

"The… flattery thing. I know you're expected to, but, just, ugh, don't."

Ignis nods, assimilating this. "Very well."

They pick up the controllers again, and Noctis flicks through the selection screen for the various cars for a while.

"Why did you pick me in particular?" Ignis asks, curious. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking?"

Noctis shoots him an indecipherable look, and then shrugs. "You looked kind in the picture. And, uh, had glasses, so maybe nerdy enough not to mind just playing a few videogames?"

"I see."

"I mean, no offense to you. I just don't wanna have sex."

"If I'm not attractive in that way to you, I'm not offended, but my house offers a wide range of Companions and you'd be welcome to pick someone else. A woman, or--"

"Ha." Noctis shakes his head, and selects a car finally. "Ignis, it's not you, okay, I like men, you're hot, but… I'm not used to sex being a casual thing you do with just anyone. So I wanna wait for someone I really like, that's all."

Oh. "How endearingly old-fashioned of you."

"You're laughing at me," Noctis says, his tone warning, but with enough humour to indicate he doesn't actually mind.

"No, it's… sweet. Unusual for me to meet anyone like that, in my line of work." Ignis chooses an elegant silver sports car, and flashes a grin at Noctis. "Very well, then. How badly do you think I can wreck _this_ car?"

\--

By the fifth session Ignis is rather accustomed to how an evening with Prince Noctis proceeds, which is why it's unusual when Noctis says, "do you mind if we watch a movie tonight?"

"Not at all."

"It's just," and Noctis holds up a hand, his expression rueful. "My arm's a bit of a wreck."

Ignis can see, now, that there's the edge of a bandage peeking out of Noctis's shirt. "You're injured?"

"It'll be fine. Just need to heal up tonight."

"Then sit down. I know where your fridge is, I'll get us drinks."

Noctis obediently stays where he is, but adds, "there's snacks, too, in the cupboard above the kettle."

"I'll find them." Ignis rummages as politely as he can. "Microwave popcorn?"

"Ah, yeah, I'll show you--"

"Stay there, Noctis. I can manage." Ignis finds the microwave behind another door, checks the instructions, and fires up the popcorn. "And soda in the fridge?"

"Uh-huh."

Ignis finds nothing _but_ cans of drinks in the fridge, and pokes a little -- ah, no, there's also a jar of mustard, and a small unopened tub of miso paste. Interesting. "Your cupboards are a wasteland," he remarks as he takes a fruit soda over to Noctis. "Do you not eat?"

"The Citadel -- I mean, Dad's place -- feeds me, or I get takeout." Noctis wrinkles his nose. "I'm not much of a cook."

"Well, _I_ am. I can cook for you sometime, if you just tell me what you'd like."

"You do that?"

"One of these days you really should read my profile page," Ignis says, archly. "But yes. Just say you want something cooked when you request me. Is there anything in particular you'd like?"

"No vegetables." Noctis narrows his eyes, probably because Ignis can't stop himself smiling. "Don't look at me like that, I just don't like vegetables."

"Fine. No vegetables. I'll remember."

"Otherwise, anything's good, I'm not fussy."

The sound of microwave popcorn kernels is slowing down appreciably, so Ignis goes to sort that out. "Do you have bowls for this?"

"Just bring the packet over."

Ignis obeys, and when Noctis gestures to the seat, sits down on the sofa next to Noctis. "So what are we watching?"

"I dunno, I got a bunch of movie services. What do you want?"

"You're the client."

Noctis rolls his eyes. "Just pick something."

Ignis finds something inoffensively mainstream, a science-fiction blockbuster set on a star-cruiser. It starts promisingly, and then, to Ignis's vague horror, takes on unsettling and -- apparently -- unintentional undertones.

After one particularly awful scene where the lead actor reviews footage of one of the women in a decontamination shower and comments on her 'assets', Noctis throws popcorn at the screen. "God, this guy's creepy as hell."

"I agree. Do you think they _meant_ to make him an anti-hero?"

"If they did, she shouldn't be acting so pleased. It's not romantic, this stalker bullshit."

Ignis nods, and then squints at the screen. "Wait. Wait. Pause?"

Noctis fumbles for the remote. "What?"

"Go back… there, there, you see? Top of the screen, in the reflection?"

"What am I looking for… oh. Oh, wow."

Ignis grins, delighted. "A terrible script _and_ they've managed to catch the sound-equipment's reflection on camera."

Noctis's expression goes all sly and almost vicious. "Okay. We finish this viewing up, then we go back through and rip the whole movie to shreds. Deal?"

"That sounds _splendid_."

The film has a dull denouement and the romance goes the predictable course that has them _both_ yelling at the woman that she can do better. Noctis restarts it as soon as the credits roll, and grins over at Ignis over the opening titles. "So, this black-screen-beat-flash-black-screen thing, I hate it, it's _everywhere_ right now."

"You're right, and it was already overused three hundred years ago. Lazy writing."

It's fun, being petty at a movie that fully deserves it, and Noctis is possessed of a dry humour that suits the activity well. And so, it takes nearly half their second viewing for Ignis to realise that Noctis occasionally rubs at his own right shoulder, the arm that's injured.

"Noctis, you're in pain?"

"Huh? Oh, no, it's just, I keep holding my arm funny, so my shoulder's a bit stiff."

"Turn around."

"What?"

Ignis shakes his head. "As per my profile, I'm trained in therapeutic massage. I'll rub it for you."

"Uh." Noctis looks really wary. "Nah, I'm okay."

"I'm here to help you, so don't be ridiculous. And I will rub it through your shirt, if you're body-shy. But I can do a better job of it than you're doing, and I am offering, so just shush and turn the other way."

Noctis makes an uneasy sound, but turns, so his body faces away from Ignis. Ignis places both his hands firmly on Noctis's right shoulder, squeezes, can feel how tense Noctis's deltoids are. Some of it might be due to being touched, but-- "you're like a rock, you know. My sessions are supposed to relax you."

"Mm."

Ignis nods at the screen. "Go on, continue your theory about the idiot mind-control."

"Right." Noctis gnaws at his lower lip for a moment, as Ignis kneads. "Uh, so if they're actually all just being controlled by the ship, then why the hell doesn't she wear more clothing? It's not like the ship is getting hot for her naked skin, unless--"

Ignis listens, smiling, and works on the many knots that constitute Noctis's shoulder, occasionally adding his own venom to Noctis's gripes with the film, until the credits roll for the second time.

"Feel better?" Ignis asks, withdrawing his hands with a little reluctance.

Noctis rolls his shoulder, as if testing it. "Actually--yeah." There's real surprise in his voice. "Thanks."

"Just ask, in future." Ignis's little pocket-alarm chimes. "And our session's nearly up."

"Alright. I'll see you soon, then, probably."

\--

The request from Noctis this time includes 'home-cooked meal requested, as per discussion'. Ignis consults his recipe books for something that will fit a royal palate, but in truth Noctis seems like the sort to enjoy something more down-to-earth.

When he turns up at Noctis's door, it is with a basket full of ingredients. Noctis makes a vague gesture towards his kitchen as Ignis enters.

"It's probably best if I begin cooking now," Ignis says, setting things out. "I'm making you a casserole of sorts, so once it's on it can bubble away unattended for some time."

Noctis frowns at the small -- pitiful, almost -- selection of vegetables. "Carrot? I really hate carrots."

"It'll be barely noticeable, in the final product."

"It's a texture thing."

Ignis plucks the single carrot from the pile. "Then we can forgo it. Any of the others a problem?"

"No, they're fine. Is this lamb?"

"Fresh from the farms outside the city, I'm assured."

Noctis nods, and then blinks as Ignis pulls out his _other_ ingredients. "What are those for?"

"For dessert."

"There's dessert?" Noctis's face has lit up, as if he's truly delighted by the idea.

"There will be. Now go on, you relax, I'll get these things going and join you shortly."

Ignis sets about dicing his produce, as Noctis flops out on his sofa and flips through the movie-streaming service they'd used the previous time. He seems unable to choose, or perhaps he's merely being amused by the brief descriptions of the films on offer; they're often amusingly misleading, from what Ignis has seen, and the disparity probably appeals to Noctis's well-developed sense of absurdity.

"How's your arm?" Ignis asks, as he scrapes the cutting-board's contents into a pan. "Better now?"

"Oh, yeah, a lot. Shoulder's still a bit off, though."

"Would you like me to rub it again?"

"...that _and_ dinner? Bit much to ask for one evening, isn't it?"

Heavens, Ignis thinks, this man does have the most ludicrous ideas about how much he can ask a Companion to do. "Not in the slightest." Ignis adjusts the flames beneath; there's store-bought stock in the pan, and everything needs to simmer. "I need to just brown the meat, but I'll be with you in a jiffy."

"Thanks."

Ignis quickly sears the lamb, adds it to the stock with a little seasoning, and then washes his hands fastidiously. Noctis has seemed to settle on a film now, or at least has left the streaming service on a title, and is poking at his phone instead. "What are we watching?"

"Some robot thing."

Ignis does one last spot-check, and sets the timer: thirty minutes. "Right. Fire it up."

As he sits down next to Noctis, Noctis twists his body to face away. Ignis raises a hand, ready to rest it on Noctis's shoulder, but as he does so Noctis surprises Ignis entirely by -- suddenly, in one swift movement -- grabbing the back of his own shirt and pulling it upwards, off over his head.

Noctis's back is pale, has well defined muscles, and is marred with a few past injury scars, the most prominent of which are two _huge_ wide gashes across at about the middle of his spine, as if something slashed at him. The tissue over it is raised, puckered, as if it hadn't been properly tended in a medical facility. Noctis can certainly afford to have cosmetic work done, however, so that he _still_ has the scars means something. A lack of vanity? Or some sort of need to remind himself of whatever had injured him?

"I--" and Ignis gathers himself, swiftly, grateful for training which allows him to _sound_ unruffled even when he doesn't feel it, "--ah, didn't bring my massage oil, I'm afraid. Do you have some? Or some lotion, or something?"

"I dunno, check my bathroom. The one off my bedroom, I mean."

Ignis does so, picking his way around the discarded clothing that litters Noctis's bedroom floor. He's never ventured in here before -- there's a guest bathroom near the front entrance for when he's needed one before -- and he tries not to be overly nosy. Still, bedrooms are a good indication of the occupant, and Noctis is still rather hard to read, so Ignis takes notes. Noctis has a double bed, the bedding left untidily rumpled on it. There're two large chests of drawers with various accoutrements on top, a mirror and a few landscapes on the wall, an ottoman-style chest at the end of the bed, soft rugs on the wooden floor, and a comfortable-looking blue chair that doesn't match anything else in the room. It feels lived-in -- _smells_ it, a combined scent of hair products and skin musk and lightly-used clothes. Ignis smiles, to himself. This is not a room that expects to be used for sex, only for sleep, and that aligns very well with what he knows of Noctis so far.

Noctis's bathroom has painted wooden panelling, a dove-grey that matches the porcelain units and complements the darker grey towels hanging from the hooks. The shiny metal cabinet above the sink is not in keeping with the style of the rest of the room, but it _does_ contain a few lotions and cleansers. Ignis picks out a bottle he recognises, an oil that is meant to reduce scarring. It looks unopened, tucked into the back of the cabinet.

Well. He takes it, since it's _oil_ and will do very well for massage, and picks out a lotion that will be a good fallback if Noctis rejects the oil.

Back in the main room, Noctis is still shirtless, back to poking at his phone.

"Is this alright?"

Noctis glances over his shoulder. "Sure."

"Not because your scars are ugly," Ignis adds. "It's just the most suitable of what you owned."

"It's fine, I'm supposed to use it anyway. I just never remember."

Ignis sits, and carefully oils his hands -- he has no heater to warm the oil, but it should warm up on his skin enough for this -- and then places them on Noctis's shoulder.

"Where are these two trophies from?" Ignis asks, having thought about how to phrase it for a while.

"Huh?"

Ignis drops one hand, brushes a knuckle to the top scar for a moment before returning his hands to the shoulder.

"Oh. Uh -- so, alright, here's where you think I'm making it up. Reavers."

Reavers. Of course, Noctis had been a border-world Prince, and constant battle is part of what that life would entail, but _Reavers_ is… not skirmishing and bandit-hunting. Reavers are monsters, legends, tales scared humans tell when they have no explanation for atrocities. And they're Rim monsters at that, not Border-planet ones. When would Noctis have been out in the black, far enough to meet Reavers?

But Noctis has no reason to lie, and his tone doesn't seem to expect to dazzle Ignis with his heroism. It's just a fact, whether Ignis humours him or not.

Ignis glances down at the scars. "And you walked away with only this to show for it? Impressive."

"I was rescued, and lucky to live." Noctis sighs, shifts, seems to be relaxing a bit under Ignis's touch. "They were very deep. I was lucky that one of the locals cleaned out the crap and stitched me vaguely back together, and... most people here think Reavers are a myth. Don't you?"

"That persistent a myth has to have _some_ basis in truth."

"Yeah, well." Noctis tips his head, allowing Ignis easier access. "They're real. Trust me on that."

"You're the first person I've met to have personal contact, though."

A tiny shrug. "I lived. That's all. And I'm just starting to not have nightmares about them."

Which means, more or less, let's not talk about this. Interesting. One more factor in this story being one that Noctis believes, at least. "Of course. Weren't you going to show me some robot show?"

Noctis grabs the remotes, and brings up the show. Ignis can easily work out knots in someone's back while following a TV show -- multitasking is a skill one can practise and develop, so Companions do -- but the idea of someone like Noctis being in a war is an arresting one. Noctis's body is well-toned, and frankly if Ignis were acting on his own desires and not that of his client then Ignis would be smoothing his hands down those arm muscles to enjoy the glide of oil over firm bicep. Ignis wonders what Noctis is like in combat, what sort of fighting he prefers, what sort of weapons are favoured out on Newhall.

 _Another_ thing Companions are trained in is easy sensuality and a lack of shame in arousal, thankfully, because the idea of a battle-blooded and armed Noctis all fierce and stern, commanding his men from horseback, is one that Ignis's libido finds rather appealing. Still. Noctis has been clear on his boundaries, so Ignis resists the urge to turn the massage into a seduction, keeps his motions brisk and therapeutic. It's almost a pity to have to get up and attend to the food, all the same.

Dessert goes in the oven to bake. The casserole is seasoned, and left on the low heat. Noctis pulls his shirt back on -- and Ignis keeps his disappointment concealed -- and they watch another episode of the show side-by side with more canned drinks from Noctis's plentiful supply. Ignis has questions, some serious and some just to make Noctis snort in amusement, and the time passes swiftly until Ignis bids Noctis sit at the dining table. It's not a complex meal: casserole and some crusty bread, butter, salt and pepper in case Noctis wants those.

Two cautious bites of the dish, and Noctis reaches over to grasp Ignis's hand, his eyes wide.

"Is something--"

"When you said you could cook, I didn't know you were _this_ good."

Ignis laughs. "I'm good at a lot of things," he says, immodestly. "At least anything I put on my profile."

"Professional pride, huh." Noctis grins, and takes another spoonful of the casserole. "Okay. I might have to make a habit of asking you to cook."

A thought occurs. "And yet I thought you were fed at the Citadel? I know I can't compare to the chefs there."

"Yeah, but it's all rice and--" Noctis gestures vaguely, writing off entire disciplines of cultural cuisine as he does so, "fiddly stuff. Not plain, proper food like this."

"Ah." It's a compliment, Ignis is aware, but it also makes him wonder why Noctis doesn't just _ask_ for food that's more to his taste. He's a Prince, he can have anything he wants. "I hope you don't mind your dessert a little more fiddly?"

"All dessert is good."

"I thought you'd feel that way."

And indeed, when Ignis brings out his multi-layered pastry confections, Noctis's eyes go _soft_ with anticipation that makes Ignis wish again that this particular client wanted to be seduced. Noctis doesn't help matter by making a low, entirely sensual-sounding groan of approval after trying his first bite.

Ignis calms himself, eats his own dessert -- it _is_ rather a triumph-- and contents himself with knowing his client is pleased by his cooking.

"What do you do, anyway? When you're not baking or massaging or being all Companion-trained? I mean you know a ton about me, but I kinda feel like I don't know much about you."

"I like reading. I've rather a thing for research, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Physics. Astrophysics." At Noctis's encouraging nod, Ignis smiles. "I'm particularly interested in cosmology and life-cycles of stars."

"Those aren't the same thing," Noctis says, which means he's both paying attention and at least mildly informed on the topic. Interesting. "Alright. What shape do you think the 'verse is, then?"

They chat, amiably. Noctis is fairly well-informed, though his knowledge isn't up to date, and Ignis's faint concern that he'll reveal himself to be a stuffy academic fades quickly in the face of Noctis's obvious interest. But he dials it down a little, all the same. Best not to reveal _quite_ how much time Ignis spends immersed in his research projects. When Noctis insists he not even think about washing up, Ignis takes the _other_ sofa again to watch one last episode of the rather silly TV show before his alarm chimes and he takes his leave.

Logging his session, he allows himself a mildly frustrated sigh at how much he _likes_ Noctis. Ah well. Finding a client attractive is the opposite of a problem, as long as he doesn't let it compromise his behaviour. And he can, at least, take matters into his own hands to relieve that frustration at home.

\--

This time the request actually specifies 'therapeutic massage', so Ignis dresses appropriately and takes his folding massage table as well as a few other supplies.

Noctis looks surprised when he opens the door. "Hey. Uh?"

"It'll make massage easier and be more comfortable for you," Ignis says, lifting the bag. "If you don't mind?"

"No -- uh, you'll have to tell me what to do. Not many massage therapists on Newhall either."

"How much would you like massaged? Just shoulders, or your whole back, or your legs and arms too?"

"Arms? People do that?"

"They do, though in my experience more for relaxation than therapy." Ignis unzips the bag. His massage table is a rather nice one, expensive but Ignis rather thinks his clients deserve that. It unfolds itself when he sets it down near Noctis's sofa, sturdy and with a plush padding system. "How about we start with your back and shoulders this time? If you're enjoying it I can continue to your arms and legs."

Noctis nods, so Ignis rummages in his bags for scented oil to put in the table's fragrance release system and slides the towels into the slots for them. Noctis tips his head, watching.

"Alright. I'll need you to take your shirt off again. If you're comfortable doing so, it'd be best if you removed those trousers too--" especially since Noctis's trousers are fashionable ones with decorative buckles and zips that would dig into him if he lay down in them, "but either way, lie down on the table, cover yourself up with a towel."

Noctis pulls his shirt off, without obvious self-consciousness despite Ignis's expectations, and tosses it over to the sofa. "If you're rubbing my back, can't I keep the pants on?"

Ignis pulls the now-heated towels free from the slot. "Your trousers start at your waist. Unless you explicitly prefer me not to, a therapeutic massage will go down to your sacrum." Ignis indicates the right area on himself. "Below the waist, above the bum."

"Huh. Okay, you're the boss on this." Noctis starts unbuckling, and Ignis politely turns away to allow him a little privacy. The sleeves of Ignis's tunic are designed to allow him to tie them up, so he busies himself with the fastenings. The trousers get flung past Ignis, onto the sofa, to join Noctis's shirt. "Hey, this table's _warm_."

"It's heated. Tell me when you're ready."

"...okay, alright."

Ignis turns. Noctis is face down, his head already in the padded hole, a wide towel slung haphazardly across his upper legs. He's still wearing his socks -- dark blue with cute yellow chocobos, which makes Ignis grin despite himself -- and Ignis very carefully drapes another towel over the full length of Noctis's legs and tucks it in. "Warm enough?"

"Pretty toasty, yeah."

"I'm going to put on some background noises. It's a tradition, it's supposed to relax you. Would you prefer, let me see, vaguely oldy-worldy woodwinds, vocals, birdsong, water noises, wind sounds, or whalesong?"

Noctis chuckles, his shoulders moving as he does so. "You pick."

"Woodwinds, then." Ignis selects the track, opens the oil bath, dips his hands in. Noctis seems already more relaxed than he was when Ignis massaged him last time. Perhaps now he's more accustomed to it, or to Ignis.

Noctis is _ticklish_ , Ignis discovers, anywhere below his shoulderblades, though Ignis soon compensates with firmer motions and Noctis stops squirming away from his touch. And Noctis is otherwise very obliging, moving his arms when Ignis gently asks him to, allowing Ignis to fold the towel down a little further so Ignis can massage the lowest part of the back, making only the faintest surprised grunt at pressure on his sacrum.

"Sorry," Ignis says, "for some people that's excruciating, but for others it's useful to release stress, please tell me which--"

"It's painful."

"Understood." Ignis returns upwards. Noctis's scars are rough to the touch, but the flesh beneath is firm enough, and it's a joy to be allowed to splay his hands out across Noctis's muscles and to follow the curve of his spine inwards and outwards. His body reacts, but it's easy enough to slip into the mindset where his attraction to Noctis is backgrounded and his erection soon subsides.

He stops, reluctantly, after an hour, his hands rather sore. It's been a while since he spent so long on a massage that wasn't sensual, and he's not used to it any more. Noctis lifts his head, bleary, as Ignis lays a hand on his shoulder to check he's actually awake. Noctis looks _good_ right now, eyes hooded in a sultry fashion, hair dishevelled, his expression caught in a sleepy, sexy sort of daze. Ignis fights down an inner speculation on how the man would look after a seduction massage; sinfully tempting, most likely.

"That should hold you," Ignis says, smiling to cover his other reactions. "I could continue but it wouldn't be appreciably better for you, in terms of therapy."

"Okay." Noctis blinks, his eyes dark, and looks a bit uncertain. "Uh. I should get up now?"

"You're welcome to stay there for a bit," Ignis says, switching off the fragrance. Most clients prefer to relax in place after a massage, and male clients often have _reactions_ similar to the one Ignis shook off earlier to contend with. "I'll wash my hands and fetch us both some water."

The cool water feels good in Ignis's throat, a salve against the heat that's still lingering in his blood.

When he turns back, having taken his time in both scrubbing his hands clean and filling two tall glasses with water, Noctis is sitting on the massage table, the towel wrapped around his waist. He's glaring down at his crotch -- ah. Well. On the one hand it's nice to know Ignis's touch _has_ stimulated him. On the other, Noctis has repeatedly expressed that he doesn't wish for their relationship to involve sex.

"Reactions like that are commonplace," Ignis says, as he walks back over. Noctis's head snaps up. "In case you're worried. I'm not taking it personally, though I _am_ also flattered by the compliment implied."

"Huh." Noctis wrinkles his nose, and then shrugs. "Right, okay. Can you, um, go away for a few minutes so I can get dressed properly?"

Ignis hands him the water. "Certainly. Drink this, and I will absent myself. Knock on the bathroom door when you're done."

Noctis's guest bathroom is small, clean, and Ignis chants under his breath for a count of four solid minutes as he straightens out his sleeves, inspects his hair, cleans his glasses, and buffs his fingernails. At Noctis's knock, Ignis smiles and opens the door.

"Okay. Um, thanks. My back feels really good," Noctis says, but he's not meeting Ignis's eyes so he's clearly still embarrassed. "I think I might actually sleep well tonight."

Embarrassment is one thing. Not sleeping properly-- "Is sleep a problem for you?"

Noctis's eyes snap to meet Ignis's. "Uh. A bit. I never really feel like I've slept properly."

"Well--"

" _But_ it's not your problem, okay? Nothing a lot of caffeine can't fix for me, anyway." Noctis gestures back towards the main room. "Anyway. I dunno what the customs are for after a massage, so, what happens now?"

"Let's keep you suitably relaxed and warm. I've a couple of hours of time left -- perhaps a movie?"

Noctis smiles. "Sure."

"Go sit and pick something. I'll fetch your blanket, if you don't mind my intruding on your room. And then I will fetch whatever snacks lurk in your cupboard, and some kind of uncaffeinated beverage."

It's a daft, silly movie, one that Noctis says his friend recommended to him, and Noctis sits furled in his blanket, eats the popcorn Ignis brings him, and generally looks like the session was an unqualified success in being _good_ for him.

Ignis leaves, bag slung over his shoulder, feeling distinctly delighted with himself.

\--

Formal parties are commonplace in Sihnon's highest echelons, and Ignis has accompanied a slew of dignitaries and nobility to such events. There is etiquette in place for Companions at such things, expectations to meet, and meeting one's other regular clients is all part of the process.

Ignis is groomed and preened to impress, in the most elegant and tasteful of slim-cut embroidered suits, on the arm of a regular client who brings him to events like this once every few months. Ignis is there to be a charming, witty escort, to be shown off as an expensive trophy, and to be admired by anyone his client introduces him to.

It's work, and Ignis does what he's being paid handsomely to do. His client -- Nils, a very wealthy art dealer with a taste for being dominated in bed and obeyed without question everywhere else -- takes him on a brief mingling tour around the periphery before they step onto the wooden platform and dance a few turns. Ignis is handed off to others now, as is traditional, and acts as expected -- polite, witty, attractive but archly unavailable to anyone not his current client -- as his client dances with a variety of partners.

And then Ignis is handed off, hand-over-head style into the next dance, and suddenly he's dropping his gaze to meet the startled eyes of Noctis.

"Hello," he manages, as smoothly as he can when completely nonplussed by something. Best to verify if Noctis wishes to acknowledge their acquaintance outside of their sessions. "Prince Noctis, am I right?"

"...yes." Noctis's hand twitches around his, but he's leading and his steps don't falter. "And you are?"

"Ignis."

"Nice to meet you, Ignis." Noctis's smile curves up, and then he ducks his head and starts laughing. "Sorry, haha. I can't pretend I don't know who you are, is that awfully rude?"

"It's your choice to be discreet or not about knowing me." Ignis relaxes; while he shouldn't really form opinions based on people's need for discretion, he does _prefer_ when people aren't afraid to admit that they hire his company. "I'm surprised to see you here. Didn't take you for a ballroom type."

"Can't avoid them all. Who're you here with?"

"Nils Calexion."

Noctis nods, pursing his lips. "He's a bit of a bore, but at least now I know he has good taste in men."

Ignis dips his head, acknowledging the compliment.

"And you look great. Very… done up."

"I could dress like this for you, if you asked." Ignis lets the music pull them apart for a few steps, which allows him to look at Noctis properly, and then steps back in, where Noctis takes his hands. "And I must return the compliment. You look positively dapper."

"The Citadel tailors, I didn't have much to do with it." But Noctis looks flattered, nonetheless. "I'd better hand you back soon, though, Calexion looks a bit grumpy."

"Ah, I must be too obviously enjoying your company." Ignis winks, knowing his back is to Nils, and then takes a deliberate half-step back to allow there to be more space between them. "There. He'll settle down."

"Ha."

They twirl together, slow elegant steps. Ignis finds himself asking right at the end, as the music fades, although it's a complete breach of protocol to do so, "I do hope… I will see you soon?"

"Of course." Noctis spins Ignis in the final turn of the dance, with surprising elegance, and then extends Ignis's hand out. "Calexion, your dance, I believe?"

Nils seizes Ignis's hand, and plants his other very possessively on Ignis's waist as they whirl into a faster dance. Ignis doesn't think Noctis _himself_ prompted this, however. Nils always gets a little more aggressively handsy after Ignis has danced with a few other people, regardless of who they are. It's just how he is, and Ignis chooses to be flattered.

And if he's a little less entirely focused on his paying client for the next half an hour than is usual for him -- aghast at himself for _soliciting_ another client while on the clock, what an appalling thing to do no matter how positively Noctis reacted -- then Nils doesn't seem to notice.

Ignis manages to snatch a few moments away from Nils, pleading an overfull bladder, and finds Noctis at the bar.

"Ignis? Where's Calexion?"

"Ah, he's busy chatting. I wanted to say, about earlier: I meant, meeting for coffee sometime. On the house, of course. Somewhere in the city."

Noctis blinks. "Er, sure, I'd like that… is that cool, though?"

"After the amount of credit you've spent on me? I'm permitted to offer you a few complimentary coffees." Such things are within Ignis's discretion, although usually Companions reserve free meals and meetings for clients whose attention they think is waning. But a coffee or two won't raise any eyebrows, and asking Noctis for a coffee is less like solicitation and more like… friendship.

"Then sure, we'll match schedules. It'd be nice to just chat."

Ignis grins and returns to Nils's side with a murmured apology for absenting himself. Nils spends the rest of the evening making rather a fuss of Ignis, which is pleasant, and he kisses the back of Ignis's hand effusively as Ignis gets into his ride home, and even tips Ignis as generously as ever when Ignis checks his credit chit at home.

A successful evening, all in all.

\--

They meet for coffee, at Noctis's behest, inside the Institute of Physicists. There's a small cafe here, adjoining the public section of the vast library. It's a bit twee, full of overstuffed armchairs and little spindly tables, clearly meant for the researchers here to take their breaks. Noctis sits in one chair, lets Ignis buy them both 'cosmic coffee', picks up one of the popular science magazines someone has left discarded on the shelf nearby.

"Hey, star deaths in the Andromeda galaxy. That's within your area of interest, right?"

Ignis holds out a hand. "Hm? Professors Lee, Winchis and Cheung -- yes, I followed the publication of the paper this article's based on. Anything Cheung publishes I read with great anticipation, I have to admit. He's brilliant."

Noctis picks up his coffee. "Interesting. Have you been in here before?"

"Many times."

A smile. "For researching."

"Yes." Ignis adjusts his glasses. "It was a close thing, but being a Companion allows me the freedom to pursue my research as a hobby, and being a researcher wouldn't have afforded me the freedom to learn so many other skills. Or to attain the standard of living I enjoy."

"...huh." Noctis sips his coffee. "Never been in here before, myself. I do get invited to the semi-annual galas and stuff, because the Caelums fund a few projects here. Next time, I should come, bring you along, let you hobnob with all the professors and nerds."

Oh. Ignis's breath catches in his throat, at the very thought of moving in such august company.

"Wow, okay, yeah, I'm _definitely_ doing that, look at your face." Noctis sets his cup down. "I like stars, I can spend hours just staring up at the night sky, but you, you _love_ them, like they're--"

"They're magnificent, and without them we wouldn't exist." Ignis glances up, at the ceiling, which is painted with depictions of the constellations. "Look up -- from Earth-That-Was, we sailed to here by their guidance, and we harnessed their light and their fire. They are the fuel that drives the universe, whatever shape it is."

"Gods," Noctis says, as if it's in conclusion to his earlier sentiment. "It's funny. You're so sophisticated and worldly, and yet, deep down, you're just a nerd, aren't you?"

It's said so fondly it makes Ignis smile. "I am. Is that a problem?"

"Absolutely not." Noctis drops the magazine between them. "Alright. Come on, then, nerd. Tell me what the most exciting thing you've heard from this place recently is."

\--

The session request this time is blank, a surprise given that Noctis has of late been alternating requests for meals and therapeutic massage. Noctis is, despite his chastity, definitely becoming Ignis's favourite client. It's been a delight seeing Noctis become comfortable with asking for pleasure, even if it's non-sexual, and he's always very appreciative. They talk, often of physics or politics. Ignis has spent a while looking up the details of what life is really like on Newhall, but Noctis never discusses it in much depth. It's an unspoken barrier, his past there, growing up finding men attractive on a border planet rather renowned for being a place where that is still _illegal_ , fighting endless battles, commanding men older than him and _ruling_ at least two-thirds of a planet while still a teenager.

Ignis wishes Noctis would talk about it. But it's not his place to pry, not with Noctis, who has never indicated an urge to be counselled.

And it matters not why Noctis has left his request blank. A blank request is still a request. Perhaps Noctis wants to watch a movie, or play a game together. Ignis manages a few refresher fights in his own recently-acquired copy of Iron Fist, slips into his bag the DVD of a wry fighter-comedy movie that he'd thought Noctis would enjoy, dresses for a night of friendly chatter, and arrives at Noctis's door a few minutes early.

Noctis lets him in, waves him through the door, his brow knitted in an uncharacteristic fashion.

"Noctis? Is everything alright?"

"I… um. Yeah. But, er," and Noctis closes the door firmly. "Can we have sex?"

Ignis is startled enough to do a thing he almost never does: ask for confirmation. "Pardon?"

"You and me. Can we have sex?"

"Of course." It's an automatic response, thank god. Ignis sets down his bag, steps back into Noctis's personal space. Noctis's chin rises, and he looks determined rather than anything else. Ignis feels wrong-footed, but he raises a hand to caress Noctis's cheek. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Noctis's mouth opens, clumsy, against Ignis's, but there's passion behind it and Ignis has wanted to kiss Noctis for long enough to revel in that. Ignis's hands travel down those arms -- oh, they _do_ feel grand -- and then coax Noctis into putting his hands on Ignis's sides. "How about," Ignis asks, lightly, "we move into the bedroom?"

Noctis's bedroom is tidier than it was last time Ignis set foot in here, which indicates a certain amount of pre-planning to Noctis's proposal, and Ignis pulls Noctis down onto the soft bed with no small amount of eagerness. Noctis's kisses grow more confident, his hands bolder, and it's mutual desire that speeds everything, Ignis's hands stripping Noctis's t-shirt from him, Noctis's fingers deftly unfastening the buttons of Ignis's shirt.

Bared to the waist, Ignis transfers his kisses to the thin skin on Noctis's neck, to where it stretches over his collarbones, downwards on Noctis's beautiful torso -- and then stops.

"Huh? What's wrong?"

"I want to taste you."

Noctis nods urgently, perhaps because Ignis's hand is splayed over his erection.

"Splendid." Ignis unbuttons Noctis's jeans, helps him wriggle out of them, tugs playfully to get Noctis's socks off. The soft cotton of Noctis's jockey shorts is thin enough for Ignis to huff out a moist breath onto, so that Noctis makes an involuntary moan. "Oh, I am going to enjoy this."

" _Please_."

All the permission Ignis could possibly need. Ignis pulls downwards, slowly, so as to fully savour in what he's revealing; dark tight-curled hair, shapely hip-bones, a cock that's hard and slick-tipped with arousal. Ignis settles himself between Noctis's knees, inhales the raw musky scent, licks his lips.

" _Please_ ," Noctis moans again, "oh god, Ignis, please--"

A deeper, more guttural noise emerges as Ignis flattens his tongue along Noctis's cock. Noctis is _so_ responsive, makes such wonderful noises. Ignis is schooled in this act, in how to protract it, in how to draw out as much pleasure with hand and tongue as he can. Noctis's hands fist in Ignis's hair, briefly, then at Ignis's gentle redirection they tangle in Noctis's sheets as Noctis writhes.

"Ignis," Noctis gasps. "I'm so close, don't--oh, Ignis, I'm gonna, oh, please don't--"

Ignis smiles, certain Noctis is just concerned for how he tastes at climax -- so many men are -- and lets the steady rocking of his head and hands carry Noctis over the edge, keeps him there at the very peak of pleasure with every ounce of his skill for as long as he can.

In the wake of it, Ignis lifts his head, feeling rather smug. Not every blowjob is a masterpiece, but _that_ was damned close to it, even if Ignis says so himself.

Noctis is staring blankly at the ceiling, his breathing ragged, and stays there rather longer than Ignis would like.

"Noct?" Ignis sits up, concerned. "You alright?"

"That… that's not what I wanted," Noctis says, quietly.

Ignis's heart sinks so fast it makes him feel nauseated. "I'm sorry?"

Noctis sits up, looks at Ignis with eyes that look lost, confused, and almost… angry. "I said I wanted _sex_ , not just for you to get me off."

"I'm sorry. I misinterpreted. But the night is young," Ignis says, truthfully, conciliatory. "If you wish for penetrative sex, we can just--"

"No, no, never mind. Just… uh, just get out, let me get dressed."

Ignis gets up, grabs for his shirt, horror creeping through him. Oh no. Noctis had said 'sex', and Ignis should have realised that meant _sex_ sex. Instead he'd shown off, convinced he could dazzle enough by satisfying his own desires. "I'll… wait outside."

By the time Noctis emerges, Ignis has calmed himself. He has made all the necessary phone calls and arrangements. There is protocol to fall back on, at least.

"Noctis," he says, formally. "I extend my own apologies, and those of my House. The cost of tonight's session has been refunded to you, along with a credit for another session with any Companion of your choosing. I can only apologise entirely for acting on my own wishes and for not listening to yours enough, and--"

"Wait, wait, you what?" Noctis is frowning again, but it's more concern than anger now. "You got the session refunded?"

"Voided, with a formal apology."

"Fuck, Ignis, that… don't do that, it'll go on your record you displeased a client."

"But I did." Ignis smiles, though he's still feeling rather sick. "I won't evade that fact. The call's made."

"Shit, Ignis, look, it's not your fault. I didn't make myself very clear, I realise that now, okay?" Noctis rakes a hand through his hair. "Ughhh. Sorry. I got myself psyched up to do a thing and then got pissed when you didn't read my mind. That's my bad, not yours."

There's a spark of hope igniting in Ignis's chest. "But we're meant to anticipate, and I didn't. Perhaps another time you'll let one of my peers redeem my profession in your eyes."

"Stop talking, you... you _buhn dahn_. I'm gonna call your House, okay? Get it all straightened out with them." Noctis holds up a hand. "Go make coffee. We're gonna sit and watch something trashy on TV, and pretend I didn't ask you to do _anything_ before that."

"You're the client," Ignis says, simply. "As you command, I obey."

"Then get in there. Find a show about makeovers or celebrities or something. I'll be there in a bit."

Noctis joins Ignis a few minutes later, his expression neutral. They watch the show, their usual conversation a bit muted, even though this bride and groom could have saved themselves an awful lot of trouble if they'd ever actually discussed their ideal weddings.

Ignis feels _sad_. It doesn't matter if Noctis has said it's fine now. He still got it wrong, upset a man he likes a great deal, allowed his own enjoyment of Noctis's pleasure to interfere with what Noctis actually _wanted_. It's unlikely Noctis will ever hire him again, he thinks, mournfully, and if he _does_ then it'll be on a basis that firmly excludes sex again.

And Ignis had thought -- had _hoped --_ that this would be the beginning of a new phase of their client/companion relationship where he'd be permitted to give Noctis pleasure in bed as well as at board. It's _awful_ , knowing he misstepped so badly.

Ignis leaves at the appointed time, still allowing the pretence that this is a usual session, with as much dignity as he can muster.

And checks his alerts, on the way home. Noctis has made good on his word; there's a notification from his House that the session was unvoided on the specific request of the client, that there was even a _tip_ added in addition to the fee. Ignis feels tears prickle in his eyes, blinks them back. Oh. Well. He'll have to thank Noctis for being so gracious.

If he ever gets the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis hasn't been reprimanded for his behaviour _ever_ , not since he began his training at the tender age of eleven. Being summoned into his House's deputy-master's office is, therefore, deeply strange for him.

"Sit," Cor says, leaning back in his chair. "You're not in trouble, precisely. But you called the session in as void, and we have to look into that."

Ignis nods. "I understand, sir."

"It was cancelled before you left the client. Which only makes it more imperative we check." Cor steeples his fingers. "Did you pressure the client into cancelling it?"

"No, on the contrary, I insisted on the void. My client argued me into agreeing to let him cancel it."

A raised eyebrow. "A client won an argument with you about protocol?"

"A surprise for me too." Ignis tries to explain, without actually being explicit. "In effect, what happened was that I misread my client's needs, and performed something he didn't in fact want. On realising my error, of course I voided the session."

"I see." Cor frowns. "Ignis, you didn't force your client into anything?"

"No, heavens, no." Ignis sighs. Fine. Explicitness, then. "He wanted penetration and received fellatio."

"That is not usually the sort of error that requires _voiding an entire session_." Cor leans back in his chair. "What happened, really?"

"That is really what happened."

"Is he usually… upset in these circumstances? Angry?" Cor looks artificially sympathetic. "You don't have to see clients if they're unreasonable in their expectations or reactions, and you don't have to defend--"

"No, sir." Ignis swallows down his irritation at the very idea that Noctis would be 'unreasonable'. "I panicked, that's all. I've never made that sort of error before, so when he pointed it out afterwards I decided to void the session."

"I see."

"And he thought I'd overreacted. As do you, sir, I can tell."

Cor nods.

"So he cancelled the void. We ended the session on a good note," Ignis adds, and that's truthful if a little misleading, like much of what he's said so far.

"Good." Cor picks up his datapad. "That client has already booked you in for this week, so you'll be able to test that assertion."

Noctis has booked him again already? That's… wonderful. Ignis fights down his reaction, so as not to look _too_ relieved in front of Cor.

"I'm surprised at you, however. It's not like you to misread a client. You've always scored so highly on empathy. I suppose we all have off days."

"Yes, sir."

"Well. Off you go. Don't give me another reason to call you in here."

\--

"Get ready to have your ass kicked at Iron Fist," the request says. A clear re-establishment if Ignis has ever seen one. So Ignis dresses comfortably rather than to emphasise his best features and packs into his bag a little sealed box of cookies baked as an unspoken apology.

Noctis, when Ignis is let in, blushes a little but otherwise does a good job of feigning _normal_. There's canned drinks in the fridge, a pizza delivery screen readied on Noctis's system. Ignis pulls out the movie he'd meant to show Noctis the previous time, and Noctis laughs at the blurb appreciatively.

"Okay, this looks amazing. But first, I'm gonna need to kick some heads in, it's been a bitch of a day."

"Fire up the fighting, then."

It's like slipping into a warm bath, the comforting sensation of slouching onto the sofa side-by-side while their avatars fight onscreen. The pizza arrives, and is consumed hastily between rounds of the game. Noctis deliberately elbows him at one point, which requires retaliation, until they're playing like children, cheating audaciously and giggling and jabbing one another to try and get an advantage in the game. Noctis grabs for Ignis's controller after a particularly good combo attack, and Ignis laughs and holds his controller up high.

And instead of tickling him to get him to lower his arms, as Ignis half-expects, Noctis blinks up at Ignis for a heartbeat and then surges forward and kisses him.

Oh, oh _god_. Ignis drops the controller, pulls Noctis in tight, funnels everything he has into conveying how much he wants this kiss. He'd feared he'd never kiss Noctis again, can't quite credit he's lucky enough to be granted this second chance, even as Noctis squirms up onto Ignis's lap and makes urgent noises against Ignis's mouth.

"Hmm?" There are words in there, and after the previous time Ignis is going to _listen_.

Noctis's fingers haul the hem of Ignis's shirt upwards. "I want you."

"I'm all yours," Ignis says as he yanks off his glasses, allowing the words to be pleading. "How?"

"I want to be in you," and Noctis's right hand slides down, grips Ignis's hip. "But I've never -- I haven't -- so show me how to make that good?"

There are whole ceremonies around the loss of virginity for young nobles, with Companions being hired for a whole night and spending hours upon hours teaching and performing pleasure. But Ignis is here right now, half-naked on Noctis's sofa, and he has a suspicion that Noctis would hate for Ignis to turn this into anything _fussy_. "My bag, let me," he says, and Noctis snags the strap, hauls the whole thing up. Ignis grins, slides a hand into it. "Here. We'll need these. Other things depending. Any preference on how you have me?"

Noctis looks bewildered by the question, his hands stilled on Ignis's skin.

"Would you like me to choose?"

"Oh god, yes."

Ignis grins, claims Noctis's mouth again. "Then we'll make it up as we go."

It's a delight. Noctis shivers under Ignis's hands, watches as Ignis shows him that preparation for penetration can be as much foreplay as necessity, and then at Ignis's behest he sprawls out on the sofa, so Ignis can ride him.

Ignis loves that initial moment, that stretch as he sinks himself onto a cock, and this time proves wonderful in all the right ways. Noctis is a good size, not large enough to cause problems but definitely enough to _fill_ Ignis satisfyingly. Ignis groans his appreciation, bracing his legs to take it slowly, exulting in the sensation of Noctis pushing hard and hot into him. "You feel _wonderful_ ," he says, aloud, and rolls his hips in a slow and deliberate way to seat himself completely. "Tell me this is good for you?"

Noctis nods, urgent, eyes almost startled, his fingers flexing on Ignis's hips.

"I've wanted this, wanted to have you in me so much," Ignis says, leaning back, planting one hand on Noctis's knee, angles himself for more friction. The next roll of his hips forces a _glorious_ noise out of Noctis, actually makes Ignis hiss at how good it feels. Ignis reaches forwards, unclasps Noctis's hand from where it's gripping the sofa leather, transfers that hand onto Ignis's own thigh.

"For pacing," he says, rocking himself forward and then back, and in truth that makes his voice so breathless he just hopes Noctis understands him, "slow or fast, just -- you decide."

Noctis struggles up, props himself up on his other elbow. "Fuck, you look… can I kiss you?"

Ignis has to shift, to angle himself anew, so he can stretch up and kiss Noctis. Noctis's hand goes from Ignis's thigh to the back of his neck, keeps Ignis where he is, arched forward. Ignis is quite capable of grinding himself down onto Noctis like this, so he does. It doesn't take long for Noctis to get the idea, anyway, to start meeting each of Ignis's movements with thrusts of his own, his kisses becoming biting and harsh against Ignis's mouth.

"Ignis," he groans, "please, want you to come--ahh."

This one Ignis is pretty sure he's not misinterpreting, so he drops a hand to his own cock, grips himself. "Won't take much," he says, and it's a flattery but not an untruth. "Not like this."

"Wanna see." And then Noctis is pushing him up again, so Ignis spreads out his knees, sits up. A show, then, making of himself a debauched spectacle. Ignis loses himself in the sensations, the pull and fill of Noctis inside him, the sounds of Noctis's gasping breaths, the feel of his own hand on himself, the ripples and waves of pleasure rising to a crescendo, the way Noctis's hands are gripping on his hip and thigh. It's a delight to find that Noctis has sufficient self-control, if he's never done this before; Ignis has been with plenty of men whose pleasure came on too soon for Ignis to find his own this way.

He comes in due course, head tipped back, back arched, his moans tightened to gasps. Noctis's hips slow to a gentle, insistent and probably unconscious rocking motion, and when Ignis opens his eyes Noctis is looking _astonished_. Good.

"Fuck," Noctis says, and then as Ignis rolls his hips again he bites his own lower lip. "Oh… ahh."

Ignis smiles, knowing that his expression must look as smug and contented as he feels right now, and rolls his hips again. "Can I make _you_ come now?"

Another frantic nod, but Noctis is pushing himself up again, so Ignis shifts, gets close enough for kissing as they grind together, and when Noctis does come his mouth is mashed desperately against Ignis's lips and it's _wonderful_.

This time, in the aftermath, Noctis keeps pressing small -- achingly sweet -- kisses to Ignis's jaw and cheek and hand. Ignis cleans them both up, as efficiently as he can without ruining the mood, and then flops gratefully down next to Noctis on the sofa.

The looping battle-over music to Iron Fist starts over again as Noctis wraps an arm around Ignis's waist. Ignis chuckles. "That is entirely the oddest soundtrack I've ever had to sex."

"Huh?" Noctis looks genuinely confused, and then it clicks, and he looks over at the screen. "Ha, oops, I didn't even hear it, you know?"

"Nor I, while we were in the moment." Ignis shifts, kisses Noctis's mouth at the side. "You had the whole of my attention, I assure you."

Noctis looks flattered, and ducks his head a little. "Sorry," he mumbles, only just loud enough for Ignis to hear. "I know I was an ass last time."

"No." Ignis uses one finger, lifts Noctis's chin. "You asked for something and I didn't provide it."

"I was still an ass about it."

Ignis purses his lips. "I don't agree. But I'm glad this time was more to your liking."

"Yeah." Noctis's hand slides down Ignis's side. "You're even hotter with your clothes off. Geez. I should have asked for this ages ago."

"You weren't ready."

Noctis nods at that, slowly. "Yeah. I guess."

"You told me you didn't want to bed a stranger," Ignis says. "Although I confess I'm still surprised you changed your mind at all. Honoured. But surprised."

"Well." Noctis sits up, ruffles up his own hair a bit. "I, ah… you know what, never mind. Can we go to bed? Feeling a bit squished here."

"Certainly."

Noctis's bed _is_ more comfortable, and Ignis finds nothing to complain about in the way that Noctis pulls him down into a long, pliant kiss. For a while, there's utter contentment -- soft kisses, unhurried caresses, Noctis looking _happy_ , and little else in the world but the two of them entwined in each other.

When the kisses turn more heated, Ignis is _very_ happy to oblige Noctis another time. It's lovely in a different way; Ignis on his back, legs hooked around Noctis's thighs, with Noctis flushed and giddy and beautiful as he thrusts into Ignis.

In the long quiet moments that follow after, breathless kisses and lazy half-embraces, Ignis hears his phone's five-minute chime go off.

Noctis lifts his head, all ruffled-haired languor. "Oh."

"It's okay," Ignis says, smiling. "I'll stay for a little longer, if you don't mind."

"Is… is that okay?"

It's debatable. Ignis is supposed to charge for extending his time, though some things are within his discretion. Noctis's first time is a momentous enough thing for Ignis to feel comfortable with extending his time without charge, but… he probably won't tell the House, because they'd prefer to have been _told_ when a client is expecting a first time treatment so they can make a fuss about it. So this is going to be off the record. 

"It's fine," he says. "I'm warm and comfortable and there is a man I like very much here with me. I'm selfishly not in the mood to move if it's not necessary."

It's fully an _hour_ afterwards that Ignis finally stirs himself to leave Noctis, who is near-asleep but expresses wistful and unguarded dismay at Ignis having to go. They kiss for some time in Noctis's hallway before Ignis manages to actually leave, because this clingy and sentimental Noctis is an _adorable_ experience.

In fact, Ignis doesn't want to go home at all, he realises while in his taxi. It's a startling thought. Sleeping overnight with a client is a premium service, because of the intimacy involved in being asleep in the company of another. It's not a trivial matter. But Ignis would _dearly_ love to fall asleep in Noctis's bed and wake up in his arms.

Oh, hellfire. Perhaps he likes Noctis rather more than he should like _any_ client.

\--

It's another five sessions before Ignis has a chance to suggest a longer stay.

Noctis is lying on his front, without a stitch of clothing -- exactly how Ignis likes him -- and Ignis is straddling his thighs. This massage is rather less than therapeutic, involves long sweeping glides that drift down onto Noctis's ass quite frequently. Noctis has expressed some curiosity about being penetrated, and this isn't quite a prelude to trying that. It _is_ , however, if things go as Ignis expects, going to lead up to a little foreplay in that direction, perhaps fingers or tongue to introduce Noctis to the idea of pleasure as a response to caresses there.

Noctis stretches out his arms, grins over his shoulder. "You have such good hands."

"My stock in trade," Ignis says, sliding said hands downwards. "And you feel very splendid beneath them."

"Is that so?" Noctis shifts, arches his back a little, almost a _presenting_ of his ass. "Go on then."

Ignis trails one oiled finger downwards, strokes intimately, sees Noctis tense and then _relax_ as all he feels is a pleasant thrill. "Slowly, I think."

"Yeah -- ahh, do that again?"

The rate at which Ignis takes this _is_ slow, and Ignis's chime sounds while Noctis is making incoherent, gorgeous sounds in response to Ignis's tongue. Ignis ignores it -- as he often does now -- and coaxes Noctis's ass up, higher, slides one hand beneath to where Noctis is hard and leaking pre-cum.

Noctis's climax beneath his mouth feels like another blissful victory.

"Not that I'm complaining," Noctis says, rolling onto his back when he's regained his breath and laughed out his own faint embarrassment at having come in such a shameless way, "but I maybe should be paying you for all this extra time. I must have gotten a couple of session's worth of freebies by now."

Ignis chuckles, pats Noctis's thigh. "Don't concern yourself. But yes, I should probably head home."

Noctis pouts, and it's playful. "Do you _have_ to?"

"Unless you're willing to pay in advance for an overnight stay, yes," Ignis says, matching his tone to Noctis's.

There's a pause, and then Noctis shakes his head, obviously confused. "Wait, I can actually do that?"

"Really, Noctis, _do_ read the profile and what's on offer."

"Huh."

"But alas, right now, I do have to leave." Ignis softens it with another pat. "I'll see you soon?"

"As always."

\--

"You always wear this," Noctis says, idly, one evening, tugging gently on Ignis's necklace. "Well, nearly. It's an odd choice for a Companion."

"It was a gift from my mother."

Noctis frowns, and then props himself up a little to give Ignis a _look_. "Your mother bought you a skull necklace?"

"A rather old family joke," Ignis says, and shrugs. "It's not something most clients seem to notice."

"Maybe most clients don't see you as often as I do," Noctis says, and it's said with an odd edge to it. "But no, I mean, I noticed it really early on. You know it's my family crest, right?"

Ignis blinks. He's seen the Caelum family crest. It's very ornate, and resembles a face turned to one side. "Is it?"

"Yeah. Our uniforms are covered in them, it's morbid as hell. The one on the crest is a bit fussy, but it's still a skull. Has been for centuries." Noctis dips his head, kisses Ignis's collarbone. "I thought maybe that's why you wore this."

Wearing a symbol of Noctis's family would be a distinctly appropriative thing to do, under the circumstances. "No. But if it bothers you, I can stop wearing it when I see you."

"No. It suits you. Just a funny coincidence, is all." Ignis's alarm chimes, and Noctis lets out a little sigh. "Aaaand I should let you head off, then."

"Indeed." Ignis gives Noctis one last kiss, slow and soft. "But we have that event next week, I believe?"

Noctis grins at that, widely and mischievously. "Yup."

"You're still not telling me where or what it is? You're lucky I like you, Noct."

"You'll have a good time, I promise. Dress smart."

\--

Noctis is looking dapper but not flamboyant, his smart robes swirling like ink around him. Ignis peers out of the window of their taxi, watching the parks and lakes and brilliant city lights zip by below, trying to fathom our their destination.

And then they land, and Ignis's breath catches in his throat. The Institute of Physicists is decorated with lights and banners, in a rather vulgar way that Ignis finds endearing. The banner over the entrance reads _Summer Gala_.

"Told you I would," Noctis says, and his smile is sly as he extends an arm. "Come on."

Ignis presses a grateful kiss to Noctis's cheek. "This is incredible."

"Say that _after_ everyone's talked your ear off, please."

There's a small queue at the door as the doorman looks up the guestlist, and Ignis is barely paying attention as Noctis gives their names. That, over there, is the Emeritus professor of Particle Physics at the most prestigious university on Sihnon, and _there_ is the promising young post-doctoral student of propulsion theory whose articles have aroused quite the buzz of interest, and over _there_ is--

Oh, oh heavens.

Noctis grabs his hand, pulls him forward. "Professor Cheung?"

"Ah, Lord Caelum." Professor Cheung bows deeply. "I'm aware that your family funds many of my colleagues, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Nor I, but I've heard only good things about your research."

"How kind of you." Professor Cheung looks politely at Ignis, who is feeling entirely too tongue-tied to even manage a polite self-introduction.

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend here, Ignis Scientia -- he's a big fan of your work."

Professor Cheung smiles a bland, 'of course smile that means he thinks Noctis is just mouthing empty flattery. "I see."

"No, he has entirely the right of it," Ignis manages, and bows his head. "Your work on the decay and death of stars has been inspirational to me for some time."

That gets him a steadier, more assessing look. "You're a student?"

"A hobbyist. But a keen one, and I've been following your work with great interest."

"Is that so? And what do you make of my theories on plasma wormholes to account for the lower-than-expected emissions from the neutron stars we've identified in the Andromeda galaxy?"

Oh, immediately to the most controversial topic? Ignis is delighted that this man is so forthright. "I thought it was bold, though I had to agree with Professor Hong that those emissions could also have been affected by wormholes or simple distortions in the space-time field between here and there."

That gets him a pleased look, as if he's won a trick. "Yes, but of course without proposing wild theories we'd never push the scope of what might be considered."

"Absolutely. And similarly, I very much look forward to whatever wild theory you propose next," Ignis says, sincerely. "Because it is minds like yours which lead us ever upwards."

Noctis's hand on Ignis's elbow squeezes, gently, and Ignis is suddenly aware that other people are gathering, presumably wishing to talk to Professor Cheung. "Ignis here has recently been made a full member of this establishment," Noctis says, and Ignis manages not to gape at him. "So you'll have plenty of time to discuss your theories in the future."

"Really? Excellent to hear." Professor Cheung holds out a hand, and Ignis takes it to shake gladly. "I look forward to seeing you around, Ignis."

"The pleasure will be entirely mine."

Noctis pulls him away, towards another cluster of people.

"What did you mean, I'm a member?" Ignis asks, under his breath.

"I pulled some strings," Noctis says, and grins at him. "What? I checked, I can give you gifts."

"Well, yes."

"And _financially_ a year's membership doesn't cost that much. It's within the suggested limits." Noctis's hand slides up a little, curls around Ignis's upper arm. He looks so pleased with himself, and Ignis can't help himself -- even though they're in public, he pulls at Noctis's collar and kisses him very firmly. A year's membership of this Institute, access to the non-public libraries and archives, freedom to study here at the cutting-edge of physics research and mingle with the students and scholars. It might have cost little in terms of money, but Ignis hadn't any hope of being even put on the list for consideration without being nominated by someone with connections. Membership might not be expensive, but obtaining it _is_ priceless.

" _You_ are astonishing," Ignis says, against Noctis's mouth. "This may be the most wonderful night of my life."

"Yeah? Then come on, let's meet some more of your heroes."

The gala hosts basically everyone Ignis has ever wanted to meet in the field of physics. He listens in on a casual debate between some of the world's finest minds on the topic of metallurgy, eats dreadful canapes and is warned away from the salmon by a woman whose work on weather prediction has been the foremost text for two decades. Ignis manages not to dissolve into a puddle of fanboy excitement at being spoken to so familiarly, but it's a close call, and his ability to retain his composure is tested repeatedly as Noctis introduces him to more and more people whose work Ignis has been poring over with fascination since he was a callow teenager. He even manages a few discussions. It's blissful.

By the end of the evening, as Noctis climbs into the taxi with him, Ignis is almost drunk on happiness.

"Thank you," he says, clasping Noctis's hand close. "That was _incredible_."

"You're such a _nerd_ ," Noctis says, chuckling. "I had so much fun watching you bursting with all your nerdy glee."

"Professor Tegomar told me my arguments had _promise_ ," Ignis says, and sighs with contentment. "And I saw the private library catalogue. It's like a dream."

"That's it, I'm gonna lose you to their archives, you'll never work again."

Ignis pats Noctis's hand. "I really don't want this evening to end."

Noctis just smiles at him, and brushes hair away from Ignis's forehead. "Well, we could get a drink before I drop you at the House, if that's--"

"No." Ignis sits up, decisive, and yanks the taxi divider down. "Driver, take us to Core 5, Rat Street, the Kell apartment complex."

"As you say, sir."

Ignis pulls up the divider. Noctis is looking confused, so Ignis elaborates. "My home."

"...um."

"Stay with me tonight? Just because I want you, please? No charge."

Noctis lifts Ignis's hand to his mouth, kisses it. "If you say it's fine, I'm yours."

It takes perhaps twelve minutes for their taxi to touch down on Ignis's building's roof. Ignis tows Noctis behind him as they take the lift down to his place, and once inside he wastes no time in kissing Noctis _very_ eagerly.

Ignis makes short work of Noctis's clothing, snatching kisses as he goes, tips a pleased Noctis into his bed determinedly. "All that geek-talk really gets you going, huh?"

" _You_ get me going," Ignis says, and then he's in bed with Noctis, and it's very easy for Ignis to forget everything about what their relationship _technically_ is when he has this bright, beautiful man to kiss and caress. Noctis has been a fine student of Ignis's lessons in bed, and they bring each other mutual pleasure without any missteps; it all seems so _easy_ , falling into bed with Noctis, as if they're meant to be.

Ignis's bathroom is across his hall, and they take turns washing up. Ignis does have to pull Noctis back into the bedroom again afterwards, because Noctis seems oddly hesitant to return there.

"You really want me to stay the whole night?"

"That is what I asked." Ignis tugs. "Come on."

As soon as they get settled again, the door opens, and there's a loud _meaouw_ from the floor. Noctis sits up, eyes wide. "What the--"

"My stomach." At Noctis's confused look, Ignis chuckles. "I'm joking. Come on, Mikhael."

Mikhael jumps up onto the foot of the bed, directs a wary look at Noctis, and pads up towards Ignis.

"You have a cat?"

"Two." Ignis drops one hand off the bed, feels a warm fuzzy body press up against it. "Andrei, you too, hup you go."

Noctis looks awestruck, and Ignis has to admit his boys are beautiful -- furry creamy fluffballs, distinguishable by the darker points on Mikhael and by Andrei's bluer eyes. Andrei is shyer but more amenable to being won over by strangers, so Ignis dumps him onto Noctis's lap as Mikhael lies down between them.

"Here -- oh, wait, please assure me you have no allergies."

"No, none." Noctis lowers a hand, scratches between Andrei's ears. Andrei immediately pushes forward into Noctis's hand. "Gosh, they're lovely. I didn't know you had pets."

"They're greedy nuisances, but I do love them." Ignis sits back against the pillows, pulls Mikhael up onto his lap despite the little grumbling protests this earns him. "And they tolerate me."

"Are they brothers?"

Ignis laughs. "No, but they adore each other. This one--" and he tickles beneath Mikhael's chin, "--is older by about three months, and when I collected him from the shelter they informed me that he'd bonded hard with his new cagemate. So I got two cats instead of one, and they are good company for each other."

"Yeah?" Noctis mimics Ignis's chin-petting, gets a loud and delighted _mrrrr_ of delight from Andrei. "They're so pretty. They must be hits with all your clients."

"No." Ignis can't quite bring himself to look at Noctis as he admits it. "I have a place for work. I don't bring clients here."

It's the truth. And truth be told, Ignis has never _wanted_ to bring a client back here before. It's his home, not his work. But Noctis is more than a client, now, he's a friend, and one who made a very thoughtful and generous present of this evening to Ignis, and Ignis had merely _wanted_ him as any man might want a lover.

"Huh. Well, I'm very honoured." And Noctis is, absurd wonderful man that he is, shaking Andrei's paw very solemnly. "Pleased to meet you, Andrei. Do they sleep on your bed, then?"

"I can banish them for a night."

"No, I didn't mean--"

"And I think I might." Ignis picks up Mikhael. "Can't have them drawing your attention, not when _I_ want all of that tonight."

Noctis runs his hand down the flat of Andrei's back, eliciting another mrrp of delight. "Alright, pretty thing, off you go."

This time, having shooed the interlopers out, Ignis closes the door very firmly. When he turns back, Noctis is regarding him with amused eyes, the sheet across him clinging enticingly to his legs.

"I don't even have a toothbrush," he says, plaintively. "Let alone clothes for tomorrow."

"I can lend you that. You have work?"

"Only after lunch."

"Then in the morning I will buy you breakfast and escort you home." Ignis gets back into bed. "If that's acceptable."

"It's _totally_ acceptable."

\--

The library archive at the Institute of Physicists is _awe-_ inspiring. Ignis accepts the offer of a tour from the assistant at the desk, brief though it is: here is one subject area, here another, here are the most recently-published papers for most of the best universities in the 'verse -- Ignis manages not to actually salivate -- and these are the online search methods which are woefully incomplete but which can at least _start_ Ignis on a subject search.

Ignis sinks into a seat beneath one of the huge leaded-glass windows, and makes a phone call.

"They let me in," he says, still astonished. "Not just to the public areas. They let me into the full archive."

Noctis laughs at the other end of the line. "Of course they did. You're a member."

"Because of _you_."

"I am gonna have to book you a whole ton of times while this gratitude's still fresh," Noctis says, obviously pleased and amused. "Although getting you out of that library -- man, I may have miscalculated badly, are you ever going to leave?"

"It's _marvellous_. I may have to spend every hour I'm not otherwise engaged here."

"I'm glad you're happy."

"I can really… I can really actually _pursue_ research now. Not just dabble, not merely stay informed of the field. I can stay ahead of it, perhaps even converse with experts. There's no gift I could have wanted more."

"So when your birthday rolls around, I'm never gonna be able to match this? Got it."

"Oh, I dare say this will stand me for at least a year."

A chuckle. "Okay, I kind of have a meeting I just ducked out of, but I'm glad you called. Go roll around in academia for a while. I've booked you for, uh, I think Sunday?"

"You have indeed, I got a notification a few minutes ago."

"And, uh, I put in a request to extend it overnight, I don't know if that got approved."

"It will be. The House reviews those first, but I'll approve it as soon as it comes through to me."

A pleased sound. "I'll see you soon, then."

\--

It's rather splendid to arrive at Noctis's apartment knowing he isn't under much of a constraint in terms of time. It's obvious that it relaxes Noctis too; for the first time in a long while he doesn't pull Ignis straight into the bedroom.

They order a meal -- Ignis picks all the menu, all finger-foods and pastries, appropriate for lovers -- and eat it on the sofa. It's a flirtatious, affectionate meal, with them feeding each other, and Ignis tells Noctis about his discoveries in the vaults of the Institute.

"God, I've ruined you, haven't I?"

"Hardly."

"I have, you've told me before how much time you put into keeping up your Companion training."

"I'm not neglecting that."

"Practised all eight of your musical instruments this week?"

Ignis laughs, holds out another puffed fishcake. "I have, and _you_ have finally looked at my profile, I see."

"I did. I don't even know what some of the things are you offer."

"Such as?"

Noctis narrows his eyes, and then lunges forward to grab the pad on his desk. He brings up the House's website, then Ignis's profile. "Okay, so this is pretty straightforward. Music. Dance. Conversation. Massage. The subtabs -- yeah, okay, therapeutic, seductive, sensual, erotic." He nudges Ignis. "All that makes sense."

"Glad to hear it."

"And the sex stuff -- god, look, I'm not an innocent any more, I know what a lot of this is but… like, this one? Rimming? What rim?"

Ignis snorts, and takes the pad from Noctis. "I've _done_ that to you, Noct. My mouth on your derriere."

"Oh. _Okay_ then. And what's frotting?"

"Rubbing off against one other while dressed." 

"People ask for that?"

"They might." Ignis scrolls downwards. "Noct, having such lists serves two purposes: to titillate prospective clients and to confirm I will perform something specific which they desire. They're not designed to suggest a menu of activities for every client to work through. I doubt all of these things would appeal to you."

"But you've done all these."

"Yes, and regard myself as good at performing them. I don't list things I find distasteful, or dislike."

Noctis blinks down at the list. "So what _don't_ you do?"

"Quite a bit of kink is outside of my personal preference to perform with clients, honestly. No pain, no blood, no urine, no faeces. Oh, and nothing involving much roleplay or costuming."

Noctis raises an eyebrow. "The rest I get, but--"

"I just can't keep a straight face," Ignis admits.

" _Really_." Noctis laughs. "But, let's see, toys are fine, bondage is fine..."

"You," Ignis says, firmly, setting the pad to one side, "can review my profile more when you grow bored with what we currently do together."

Noctis kisses him in response to that, thankfully, and soon enough Ignis is hauling him into the bedroom. Noctis sinks to his knees, there, with Ignis pressed hurriedly against the wall. It's not quite the first time Noctis has ever given Ignis a blowjob, but it's the first time that wasn't in direct response to Ignis doing it first. Noctis has been a keen student, however, and makes Ignis's reactions honest and delighted, brings him swiftly to the edge of pleasure so that Ignis has to -- embarrassingly enough -- beg him to stop so they don't peak too early. 

Thankfully his unprofessional lack of stamina only makes Noctis laugh, and Ignis loves having sex with a laughing, eager Noctis.

In the afterglow, affectionately cuddled together in Noctis's bed, Ignis feels a by-now familiar twinge of concern. He really _likes_ Noctis. He's allowed -- encouraged, even -- to feel fond of clients, to be affectionate. Very little is as beneficial to a client as being genuinely liked.

But this is becoming a little more than what is appropriate. Noctis is _paying_ for Ignis's time, his attention, certainly. But he's not paying for Ignis's heart, and more to the point he's not paying for a Companion who wants _his_ heart in return. Ignis is under an obligation not to compromise Noctis's emotions, not to seek out more than he's entitled to.

No matter how much he might long for, well. Something other than a pure client-Companion arrangement. Companions might be valued, respected members of Sihnon's society. Sought-after lovers, even. But they're still outside society, not part of it. Sex workers, fundamentally. No noble or Prince would form a permanent relationship with a Companion. What Ignis has now is as good as he can expect to ever have.

The thought keeps him awake late, after Noctis has fallen asleep. Noctis is snoring, a light and throaty snore that is more cute than annoying, and isn't _that_ an opinion of someone with too much affection for their bedpartner, Ignis thinks exasperatedly. But it's still… lovely, being here, being trusted enough for Noctis to fall asleep in his arms a second time.

Ignis should, he knows, in the hard cold severe corners of his mind, stop accepting sessions with Noctis, should regain his professionalism. But the larger, more selfish of his mind knows he'll do no such thing. He'll maintain emotional distance as much as he can, but he… he won't stop seeing Noctis. He can't bring himself to end this, not while they're still having this much fun simply _enjoying_ one another.

\--

"I'm going away for a few weeks."

Ignis is in Noctis's bed, and Noctis is sprawled out so that Ignis can rub his back. If he picks his time right, while Noctis is especially relaxed after sex, then Noctis isn't at all ticklish and doesn't squirm away from any part of the massage.

"Anywhere nice?"

A snort. "No. Home. I mean, Newhall."

Interesting. Ignis hadn't thought Noctis still regarded Newhall as his home. It's been the better part of eight months since Ignis's first session with Noctis, and, well, Noctis seems very comfortable right here on Sihnon now. "When were you last there?"

"A year ago. Too long, probably." Noctis snorts again. "I have to go reassert the Caelum strength. Which I can do just fine, but only by being there."

"I see."

"I… don't know exactly when I'll be back."

Something about the tone of voice made it sound like a question. Hm. "I can hold a few days in a row open for you, if you'd like to be able to see me when you return."

Noctis looks over his shoulder, his expression hopeful. "Would you really?"

"Of course."

"Then yeah. Please."

Ignis smooths his hands up Noctis's back. "It's, what, two days travel between here and there in a good ship. If you let me know when you leave Newhall, I'll hold open a day either side of your ETA."

"Can… can you be _here_ when I get back?"

"In your apartment?" Ignis stops, and considers. "If you have your plate coded to allow me to enter without you, I can be here, yes, if you'd like that."

Noctis rolls onto his back. "I'll pay whatever. But if I know when I come back, you'll be here waiting, well. That's something to hold onto."

Oh. If Ignis can be that, can be something good to wam Noctis's heart while he's off endangering his life in Newhall, then he'll set aside _weeks_ of time to make it happen. "You've my phone number. Give me a ring when you land planetside. I'll have dinner ready. And my massage table."

"Oh, god. That sounds perfect."

"I aim to please."

Noctis holds out his hands, and Ignis takes them instinctively. Noctis squeezes. "I'm gonna miss you. I know it's only a few weeks, but… ugh. I mean, I'm gonna miss a lot of things. Regular showers. Good food. Comfortable furniture."

"Is Newhall really that bad?"

"Ahh, nah, it's not." Noctis sits up, pulls a wry smile. "It's even nice, in places. Civilised. I mean, backwards about some things, but getting better. But I won't spend much time in the good parts, not this time."

"Then I will be very sure to pamper you thoroughly on your return."

Noctis grins, and tugs on Ignis's hands. "Good. But right now, I wanna stock up on enough sex to keep me going while I'm gone, alright?"

\--

Despite the warnings, when Noctis shows up after being gone for -- in the end -- four and a half whole weeks, Ignis is aghast at how exhausted he looks.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Noctis says, setting down his bag with a thump.

They hug; Ignis half-wants to just scoop Noctis up princess-style and carry him to bed, but that can wait until after Noctis has been _spoiled_ somewhat.

"I think the first order of business for you is a bath," Ignis says instead. "There's one drawn for you, already. I'll come scrub your back if you'd like."

Noctis smiles at him, though it looks very forced and tired, and Ignis's heart aches. "I'd love that."

The water is hot and white-tinted with the mineral salts Ignis poured into it earlier, and Noctis seems glad to just sit there, the steam dampening his hair and his head tipped back against the edge of the tub.

Ignis has made easily-adaptable plans, so he adapts: instead of a meal prepared from scratch, tonight's meal is the sort that can be stuffed into Noctis's oven and ignored for nearly an hour. That way Ignis can do exactly that and then go make sure Noctis doesn't actually fall asleep and drown in his bath.

It's a big tub, and after a few moments of indecision, Ignis begins to undress. Noctis blinks up at him. "Joining me?"

"If you'll allow it."

"I dunno, you're all legs. Not sure you can fit in with me."

"I'll manage." Ignis slides in behind Noctis, legs either side of Noctis's hips, so that Noctis can lean back against his chest. It feels good, embracing Noctis like this, feeling him relax and rest all his weight on Ignis. "Glad to be home?" he asks, and presses a kiss to Noctis's neck.

"You have no idea." Noctis lets out a sigh. "Too much fighting. But the troublemakers have been put down again, so things'll stand as they are for a while."

'Put down', Ignis thinks, with a well-suppressed shudder at the implicit violence. "There's an old-fashioned cottage pie in the oven, and some dessert too. The evening is up to you, otherwise."

As he says it, he dips his head for another kiss, and then… 

"Noct? This scar's new."

Noctis makes a faint, grumbly noise that's both dismissive and confirmation.

"It is, isn't it." Ignis lifts a hand, splays it out to measure the width of the scar -- several inches across the shoulderblade, medi-healed so it's white and neat-edged, but it hasn't been cosmetically minimised at all. "A souvenir from your troublemakers?"

"Yep."

Battle scars. "Bandits? I confess I'm not sure on the precise nature of who--"

"The Caelums don't rule the whole of Newhall. And there's… internal conflict." Noctis shifts, leans back a little more against Ignis. "Sometimes there are uprisings from people who'd rather not have us in charge. Rivals, I guess."

Ignis considers that. "Who think they'd rule the place better?"

"We work with the Alliance, and out there, there are a lot of people who'd rather we didn't. Cut off Newhall's ties with the Alliance, and all those freshwater supplies for terraforming new worlds are gone, and that weakens… well." Noctis huffs out a sigh. "Politics. And most of the time our guys can handle it. I just have to show my face once in a while, that's all."

"And take a few hits." Ignis dips his head, kisses the scar. "You'll have to tell me of your bravery sometime."

"I'd rather not."

Ah. Ignis slides one hand around, across Noctis's belly. "In that case, how about I remind you of all I can offer you now you're home?"

Noctis turns in Ignis's arms, a lovely sensation of skin sliding wetly on skin. "Oh, god, the spirit is so willing, but the flesh might fall asleep."

"Then, let's get you cleaned and fed _first_ ," Ignis says, with a smile. "And then see if you still have any energy for other things, after that."

Soaping up Noctis's lovely body -- especially those arms -- only adds to the desire Ignis feels right now, but he pushes his own needs away and gets Noctis clean, then dry, and after wrangling them both into robes Ignis half-carries Noctis back into the main room.

Noctis _does_ perk up when presented with a good hot meal, and when Ignis brings out his _piece de resistance_ \-- hot, sweet berry tarts -- Noctis scooches his chair even closer to Ignis's and leans happily against him.

"You're looking far better."

"I feel it." Noctis takes another bite of the tart, and presses his thigh hard into Ignis's. "I think I could even handle a dessert after this dessert."

"Splendid news indeed."

"You know," Noctis says, and he sets down the tart, "the first day I got back, all I heard was, you've been on a soft Core planet too long, boy, you should come live here again, toughen up."

Ignis has a number of immediate reactions to that sentiment, but settles for, "and you replied?"

"I just laughed it off, mostly. I'm in good shape, they honestly couldn't say I'd gone soft once they'd seen me fight again. But I mean, here my life _is_ decadent, to them. It's just hard to make them understand that it's also _good_. I'm happier here."

Ah. Ignis puts his arm around Noctis's shoulders. "And that makes you feel guilty?"

"I… yeah. A bit." Noctis sighs. "Look at me, though. I come back to my beautiful home on this beautiful planet, get pampered by my beautiful Companion. Meanwhile, the people there work and fight and don't even--"

"As I understand it, Noct, the work you do here is important for your planet too."

"Yeah, it is, but--"

"And you told me it's not _all_ bad. There are good places. Civilised parts."

Noctis sighs again, and then sits up. "Yeah, you're right. There are. And they wouldn't be there if my Dad and I hadn't pushed back the bandits and the outlaws."

"There you go then. You allow the people there to have their comforts, and have yours here as a reward. Now," and Ignis squeezes his arm tight, "finish that, and let me provide other comforts to you, hm?"

\--

Ignis is obliged to spend time at the Companion House. For training and for socialisation -- but in truth it's not a hardship. The House is a pleasant place, with shrines to most of the popular deities and rooms for relaxation and learning and all sorts of things Ignis enjoys.

Including a rather impressive library. It doesn't hold much in the way of physics information, alas, but it does contain a number of other texts, and Ignis isn't quite so mono-focused as to only read on his pet topic. He pulls out a few books, mostly just to refresh his knowledge on matters that interest some of his clients, and takes a seat.

"Look at you," Gladio says, from the couch in the corner. "Not off with that favourite client of yours, hm?"

It's Gladio, and so Ignis can raise an arch eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"You know. The mystery one who hires you all the time, puts that little extra spring in your step, the one who has you not accepting half your other offers."

"Is that what they say?"

Gladio grins, widely. "Come on. What's she like?"

"If there were such a client, and I'm not saying there is, you would be referring to a man."

"What's _he_ like, then?"

"Quite lovely. Beautiful eyes. A fine physique. And a desire for _some_ sort of privacy about his affairs."

Gladio rolls his eyes. "Yeah yeah, my gorram lips are sealed once we leave the House, now come _on_. I hear he hires you every week, overnight stays, the works."

" _Someone_ in accounting is gossiping far too much, clearly."

"Hey, any of us pulls in a client that regularly, we all gossip. Gotta find out your secrets, Iggy, we _share_ methods that work here."

Ignis spreads his hands out in a gesture of innocence. "Some of us are just good at making our clients happy."

"Hm." Gladio leans forward, beckons Ignis to lean in too. "The _other_ gossip about this says maybe you see him too often, should be backing off, you know, weaning your emotional involvement. Before the client gets… dependent on you."

"I assure you, I know the boundaries. He simply enjoys my company."

It's the truth, Ignis… hopes. Or wants to hope. He's not fostering any kind of emotional dependence in Noctis, it's merely that Noctis is comfortable with him and enjoys their time together. Noctis doesn't think of Ignis as anything but his favourite Companion. Besides, Ignis _really_ doesn't want to stop seeing Noctis.

"Alright then. Good." Gladio picks up his book. "Then you're good. Have fun with the lovely client, then. Just… don't overstep."

\--

"It's been a hell of a day," Noctis says, shrugging off his coat into Ignis's hands. "I ordered dinner. Pizza."

Since there'd been no cooking request on the form, Ignis had rather suspected that would be the case. "Sounds splendid to me."

Noctis scrubs at his head with his hands. "I'm in a kind of pissy mood. Need to take it out on, uh, not you."

"Then we'll fire up a game. Let you shoot out your rage."

He gets a weak grin. "Yeah. Sounds good."

Ignis sets up the console, settles Noctis on the sofa, fetches him a soda, and opens the door for the pizza a few minutes later. They eat it side-by-side on the console, with Noctis's gruesomely bloody game on pause.

"Feel better yet?"

"More zombies."

"Very well then." Ignis tidies away the rubbish, fetches another pair of cans from the fridge. After a little consideration, Ignis then slots himself in on the sofa, sliding his legs either side of Noctis, so he's sitting behind Noctis and can cradle him in his arms in a hug.

Noctis makes a pleased noise, slumps backwards. "Okay, maybe fewer zombies now."

"Want to tell me what was so bad today?"

"Politics. Had to pass judgement on--" Noctis then stops, and curls in on himself a bit. "Ugh, I don't want to talk about it, no."

"It might help." Ignis combs his fingers through Noctis's hair at the back. "Unburdening."

Noctis shifts. "I… you think?"

"I'm here to listen, if you want to talk about anything."

"Well. Fine. I had to convene with my father and sentence a traitor to be executed, back on Newhall." Noctis's shoulders get tenser as he speaks, and then he shudders and curls in even tighter, leans right forward so his head presses to his knees. "Nope, nope, talking about it didn't make me feel better."

"Someone you knew?"

Noctis nods.

"Trusted?" Ignis continues to thread his fingers into Noctis's hair. "Liked? A friend?"

Noctis pulls himself up a little. "A friend of my father's, really. I've known him since I was a child. Dad trusted him. I was always a bit… wary. And I was right. He's been a traitor in our midst for _years_ , it turns out."

Ignis makes a soothing, thoughtful noise. "And he was unmasked."

"It was… bloody. An uprising, him and a handful of others. He got a lot of people killed. Good men died at his hands."

"Do you think your sentencing was appropriate?"

Noctis heaves in a deep breath. "Yes."

"Then you did what you must." Ignis worms a hand beneath Noctis, pulls him back upright, hugs him close. "No guilt. You did as you had to."

"But--"

"But you can mourn the loss of the man you hoped he was." Ignis nudges, gets Noctis turned around a little, so he can caress Noctis's face. "There's no shame in grieving."

Noctis leans in, and the next sigh is shaky.

Ignis kisses Noctis's hair, and that's when the dam breaks, and Noctis's chest starts heaving. Noctis is a quiet cryer, silent tears and shaking shoulders, sobbing into Ignis's chest. Ignis has a goodly amount of experience being someone to cry on; some clients will always need that. But Noctis… for Noctis this is new. A barrier dropped.

"It's okay," Ignis says, pressing more kisses into Noctis's hair and against his forehead. "I'm here."

Noctis sniffles, hard. "Thanks."

It takes a few more minutes for Noctis to cry himself out, while Ignis rocks him gently and whispers assurances, and then -- as Ignis had rather expected -- Noctis pulls himself together in one go, sitting up and wiping his face with his sleeve and moving Ignis's arms down, to his waist.

"Okay," he says, blinking hard. "Right. Where was I. Zombies."

"Noct, put the game down. Come to bed, come on."

Noctis shoots Ignis a look that's at least _trying_ to be amused. "Tears get you going, huh."

"Yes, absolutely. I've never been more aroused than when a man weeps on me." Ignis tugs on Noctis's waist. "You've grieved. Now let me distract you from your grief."

\--

All of the time Ignis spends in sessions with Noctis is _good_ these days. But perhaps Ignis's favourite times are the mornings, when he kisses a sleepy Noctis awake. Noctis always makes sure he has some time in the morning to spare, so mornings usually also include slow, languid sex of a sort that Ignis has become especially fond of. There's something wonderful about how Noctis starts off half-asleep and ends up alert and joyous and _energised_.

And then afterwards there's pancakes, or waffles, or some other breakfast that Ignis cooks while Noctis cuddles up behind him and snitches tastes of during the cooking, and kisses all through, and fine coffee, and laughing at one another's silly jokes.

"Mm," Noctis says, after one particularly long kiss, one that -- today -- has ended up with them both on the sofa, things warming up in a rather pleasant way that makes Ignis wish he'd remembered to bring his bag out already. Having to duck back into the bedroom for supplies is going to require leaving Noctis's embrace, and that would be a shame. Noctis wriggles, on top of Ignis, in a promising fashion. "I wish I could do this every day."

"You'd exhaust me," Ignis says, letting his hand trail downwards. "Especially at this rate."

"I'd be tired too, but it'd be fun."

"True. If you want to book me more often, Noct--"

Noctis huffs out an amused noise. "I don't spend enough on you already?"

"I… well."

"Ignis, I'm kidding. I'd pay double, it's just, your House has rules about booking too often. Something about not bleeding their customers dry. Rules are once a week."

"Ah." That sounds like the sort of thing his Companion House would indeed tell a client, though in truth it's not about concern for the client's wallet. Restricting access would be because something that isn't readily available is always more in demand, especially when dealing with the sorts of clients who are accustomed to always getting what they want immediately. "Then you'll have to content yourself with what we're permitted."

It's quite a while later, with Noctis nestled very cosily in Ignis's arms on the sofa, when Ignis turns over the conversation again in his head.

"Noct," he says, into Noctis's hair, "where's your pad?"

Noctis reaches down, between the sofa cushions at the back, rummages a little and extracts a datapad. "Here. Why?"

"I wanted to look something up."

It doesn't take long for Ignis to find it, familiar as he is with his House's site, but the information _is_ rather coyly tucked away in a sub-tab on the session bookings page. Ignis highlights the appropriate passage, then holds the pad out for Noctis to see.

Noctis squints, and then frowns. "What… 'enquire directly with the House for extended exclusive contract negotiations.' What's an extended exclusive contract?"

"I've known a couple of Companions who've taken those on. It is what it sounds like. A contract that binds a Companion solely to one client, for a long stretch of time."

Noctis twists around, stares up at Ignis. "How long?"

"That all depends on the specific contract. But I believe that my House would prefer contracts of this sort to last at least a month or two, or it's not worth the hassle of renegotiating all the Companion's other commitments."

"A month. And what, the Companion is, on call to that client?"

"Again, it depends, but yes. Sees nobody else, makes themself available full-time." Ignis taps the pad, thoughtfully. "It's prohibitively expensive. I… probably shouldn't even have mentioned it, but you did suggest something of the sort would please you."

Noctis pushes Ignis's hand aside, sits up, until he's kneeling between Ignis's thighs. "I have money. And you wouldn't have told me about this if you thought I wouldn't go for it."

"True," and Ignis has to use all his mettle to be able to look Noctis in the eye, "And I wouldn't offer this to any other client of mine."

"Oh."

Ignis lifts a hand, brushes some of Noctis's hair out of his face. "Companions offer these to clients in two circumstances, generally. When they're so good at keeping their emotional distance that this doesn't daunt them, and… when they're so smitten with a client that they've no distance at all, and would be grateful to be allowed to devote themselves entirely."

Those beautiful eyes widen, and then Noctis looks away. "Don't lead me on, Ignis, that's not fair."

"I am not." Ignis heaves in a deep breath. "I'll confess: I shouldn't be accepting your business any more. I like you more than I should, and I fear you're getting too attached in return, and it's my duty as a Companion not to compromise your feelings."

"A bit late for that," Noctis mumbles.

Oh. Ignis grabs for Noctis's hands, wishing he didn't feel _glad_ to hear Noctis say that. "I'm sorry. Should we stop--"

"No, look, I don't want to stop seeing you. I have to keep reminding myself that you're, you know, not my _boyfriend_ , and usually I can handle it just fine because I know it's just work for you."

Ignis swallows. "No, it isn't. Not when it's you."

"Shit."

They both stare at their joined hands. Ignis fights for eloquence; how to explain to Noctis that he's never been this _enamoured_ of a client, never anticipated with such delight their every meeting. He likes his clients, doesn't allow repeat sessions with clients he doesn't like, because he's popular and that means he has the privilege of picking and choosing. But he doesn't like most of his clients the way he likes Noctis.

"Ignis," Noctis says, and suddenly he's sounding decisive, firm. "You're right. We can't keep on as things are. Either I stop seeing you for my own good -- and yours -- or I go get a long contract and have you all to myself and see if the gloss wears off. For both of us."

That's a notion, certainly, the flipside of absence-making-the-heart-fonder. It's an excuse, however, and Noctis surely knows it.

But Ignis doesn't care.

"I would hate not to see you again," he says, honestly, and stops before he can say _please_ or anything else too much like an entreaty.

"Then… I'll put in for a long contract. Talk to the house, say I want one, see what they say."

Ignis pulls Noctis down, kisses him, because if he speaks he'll say something utterly foolish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cor's only allowed to be the deputy head of the House, because it turns out there's a law that Companion Houses have to be ruled by women.


	3. Chapter 3

Cor's weary expression suggests to Ignis that he'd _meant_ what he said about not wanting to have Ignis come in for another meeting.

"An extended contract offer," he says, his hand spread wide over the pad on the table. "You knew this was coming?"

"I was aware that my client was considering it."

Cor nods at the chair. "Close the door, sit down."

Ignis obeys.

"You must be aware of the rumours about your relationship with this particular client." Cor pats the pad. "Those rumours are circumstantially backed up by the raw data I have here -- he hires you as often as we'll permit, for as long as we'll permit, tips you frequently. Gives you gifts."

Ignis swallows down his nerves. "One gift," he says, carefully.

Cor snorts. "Yes, I saw. Enrolment in the Physics Institute? That is the gift of a client who is intimately aware of your particular hobbies and interests. You consider him a friend, I suppose, for him to know you so well."

"In addition to being my client, yes, I suppose I do."

"And is that all there is to it? Friendship?"

Stomach in knots, Ignis does his best to keep his expression calm. "I'm not sure what you're suggesting, sir."

"Yes, you are." Cor shoves the datapad aside, leans back in his chair. "Ignis, I'll level with you. Clients becoming obsessed with Companions is one thing. We have ways of handling that, gentle disengagement so as not to cause offense or upset. But it's important for the Companion to _want_ to disengage." He gestures at the pad. "You see him weekly, for overnight visits. You haven't stopped seeing other clients, but I can see that you're minimising the length and number of those visits. Disengaging, in fact." It's said without any particular venom, but, oh, it stings to hear that his behaviour has been so… obvious.

And Ignis has no answer to give, except rising dismay.

Cor sighs. "As I thought. No protestation. Have you told him you return his feelings?"

Ignis drops his gaze. "We've touched on the matter, yes."

"I see. And how long do you want this particular contract to last?" Cor sits up. "Be honest."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"You are _hardly_ the first person this has happened to, Ignis. Companions are people, subject to the whims of their hearts. Is this contract a test of concept, or a commitment?"

Ignis is so startled that he answers honestly. "We agreed it was a test."

"Good. Verifying to see if this is a fling or love is sensible." Cor actually smiles, though only faintly. "Very well. But if what you have is more serious than a fling, then you do understand that a man of his stature can't exactly make an honest man of you. However much he might want to. It's not a matter of his heart getting what it wants."

"Yes. I know, sir."

"Don't think I'm warning you off entirely. Some Companions do form long-term contracts that last years -- decades, sometimes. And your Prince has the income to do that, if you agreed to it. The House will handle the contract, if you decide that is what you want."

Become a kept mistress, as it were. A respectable retirement, one that many Companions would leap at the opportunity to take up, especially with someone of Noctis's status.

"So, a trial. I'd advise a few months." Cor pushes the datapad across to Ignis. "Three. Go. Have your fling, and find out if it has potential to be more than that. With your House's blessing."

Ignis looks at the pad. "I… was expecting you to tell me to cut it off, sir. Not to indulge it."

"Really." Cor narrows his eyes. "Well, don't misunderstand me. I fully expect that someone of your calibre will, given three months devoted to one client, provide him with nothing but a wonderful experience and the impression that your affection is undiminished. But I'm _hoping_ you'll grow tired of the man if you see him daily."

Ignis isn't so sure. His feelings towards Noctis don't feel trivial enough for that. "Perhaps, sir," he hedges.

"Good." Cor waves a hand towards the door. "Then go. See if the fire burns bright or dies down."

\--

Ignis is at home, both cats weighing down his legs as he reads, when his phone gives out Noctis's ringtune.

"Noct," he says. "Has the house sent you the approval notice?"

"Yeah. Starts a week on Thursday, right?"

Noctis sounds happy, and that's enough to make Ignis's misgivings fade. Perhaps this _is_ only a fling. But he's not in trouble for wanting to find out, at least.

"I can be at your home any time you want, stay over every night if you choose, you just have to ask."

"You don't mean _every_ night," Noctis says. "You've got your cats and stuff."

"Well, yes." Ignis pets Mikhael, who purrs contentedly and stretches out one paw. "I suppose I do have to check back in on them every few days."

"Otherwise I probably would just say move in for the whole time, it's not like I'm gonna _want_ you to be gone from my place."

Ignis looks down at Mikhael's blue eyes. "Oh."

"I mean… hell, you still could. I like cats. I wouldn't mind them being here, if you think they'd be alright moving with you."

Take the cats? Ignis's cats aren't particularly territorial -- Ignis has moved apartment with them a few times, and they've been delighted to explore the new space each time, have adapted fast. They'd probably regard Noctis's place as a delightful new realm to romp around in. "They've toys and litter trays and food, their hairs gets on all your clothing, they hog the bed if you let them. It's not all sunshine and happy purring."

"It's _fine_ , if you think they'd be okay. I mean, Ignis, from my point of view, you bringing cats is a plus, not a minus. So, uh, move in with me? If you want. And when I'm at work you can practise your music or do your research or whatever else."

Ignis stares down at his boys, and makes the decision. "Very well."

" _Brilliant_. I'll clear closet space for you and so on. Just… turn up with whatever you need, I'll make room."

"I can't wait."

\--

Noctis has been better than his word. Not only is there space cleared in his closets -- more than Ignis needs -- and a new defensive energy shield around the edge of his balcony to prevent curious cats falling off it, but he pulls Ignis over to an empty room that adjoins the main room, with a fine view out over the older quarter of the city.

"This room," Noctis says, as he opens the door, "used to just have random old junk in. But I had it cleared out -- put in storage -- and well, now it's your room."

Ignis blinks, confused. "My room?"

"I mean, I _want_ you sleeping in my bed, don't get me wrong. But if you want to do research or practise stuff while you're at home, well, redecorate, get a desk put in, some shelves, whatever you need." Noctis waves a hand towards the window. "A bed, too, if you want -- you've said I snore, maybe you'll want somewhere to bolt to if that gets too bad -- but yeah. You're living here. If I was you, I'd want a space just for me. So, here. The door locks, there's a key, you get the only copy. It's all yours."

It's an incredible gesture to make. Ignis steps forward, into the room. It has lovely proportions -- a tall ceiling with an elegant plaster ceiling rose for the pendant light, windows that let in sunshine, deep alcoves almost _demanding_ to have shelving installed therein. The walls are a quite feminine-seeming dusky rose colour, which perhaps explains why Noctis had relegated the room to storage status. "This is rather above and beyond the terms of our agreement."

"Stuff the contract, this is about making you _happy_ while you're here."

Ignis turns, and hauls Noctis forward into a kiss. "You make me happy, Noctis. This is just a bonus. Like my cats are for you."

They kiss for quite a long time, an unhurried kiss that makes Ignis very aware that they have three months of time stretching ahead of them and there is, indeed, no _hurry_ necessary. This kiss can just be a kiss.

Noctis pulls away and glances down to where one of the cats is gently pawing at his leg. "This one is… Mikhael, right?"

"Correct. And he'll beg you for food even when he's just eaten." Ignis stoops to pick him up. "Andrei's just as bad. Don't let their big eyes fool you."

Noctis crouches, holds out a hand towards the door, where Andrei is sitting with his best _I-am-a-poor-starveling_ expression already. "Here, pretty kitty."

Andrei ventures in, sniffs at Noctis's hand for a few suspicious seconds, and then allows himself to be picked up by Noctis. Noctis holds Andrei as if he's quite used to handling cats, doesn't need telling how to carry the cat properly. A blessing. 

"You had to have cats exactly the opposite colour of everything in my wardrobe," Noctis says, with Andrei plastered against his front and purring loudly. "You _know_ the official Newhall colour is black, right?"

"My apologies," Ignis says, insincerely. "By the by, Andrei sometimes drools when he purrs. Just a warning."

Noctis carefully lifts Andrei up and away from himself. "I guess cuddles are for later when I'm not in work clothes. I bought _you_ some treats, beautiful, let's go find them, hm?"

Ignis follows Noctis out, sets Mikhael down, watches Noctis do his utmost to earn the cat's favour with treats and petting.

"There's Ebony in the fridge for you, by the way," Noctis says, over his shoulder, and then gasps and yanks his hand back. "Oi, Mikhael, no biting, gentle with the treats."

It's going to be a great few months, Ignis thinks, fondly, and then catches himself.

It's going to be three months of them living together, with Ignis's cats, as if they're _lovers_ , as if they're _boyfriends_. Perhaps their feelings will subside. Perhaps they'll argue and discover they're incompatible. But it they don't, what does that leave them? Noctis paying out more money, which is within his means, but that's still a business transaction rather than a union of two people in love. And he'll never take Ignis as a _partner_ , never be able to acknowledge him in public that way _._ He can't. It isn't done on Sihnon for someone like him to love a Companion, and it isn't done on Newhall for him to love another man. It's as they've all been told before: even the best Companions don't get to marry Princes and ride off into the sunset.

For all it's House-permitted, perhaps this contract was a _foolish_ idea.

Then Noctis smiles at him, and Ignis shoves those concerns away for the hundredth time. No. He's got three months of grace period to just _enjoy_ being with Noctis, and he's not going to fritter that away on fear.

\--

It takes about five nights in a row of sharing a bed with Noctis for Ignis to realise quite how bad the snoring truly is. Interrupted sleep once a week or so is something that doesn't bother Ignis. Being woken every night, however, makes him start to be concerned.

He brings Noctis coffee, and kisses him awake.

" _You_ ," he says firmly, "need to see a doctor about your snoring."

Ambushing Noctis just as he wakes might be a bit cruel, but the very fact that Noctis is so bleary and sleep-dazed is what Ignis is concerned about. "Do I?" Noctis asks, sounding confused.

"I listened at some length last night. It sounds like your breathing is obstructed, and I'm concerned." Ignis ruffles Noctis's hair, affectionately. "Besides, you're keeping me awake with it, and I'd really rather not have to take up your offer of having my own bed."

Noctis blinks, once, and then struggles to sit up. "Alright. I'll ask the Palace to set something up as soon as they can."

"Thank you. If it helps, I can send a recording of your snoring on to you, you can see what I mean."

"Sure. Now, are you going to come back to bed?"

Ignis smiles, and slides himself back under the sheets. The early mornings of sleepy sex and kissing and cuddling are _definitely_ worth the snoring, on the whole. But if he can have those _and_ a good night's sleep, well, all the better.

\--

It's considered polite to turn off one's phone whilst in the archives, so as not to disturb anyone's research. Ignis's phone vibrates, instead, and he carefully makes his way to one of the little soundproof comm pods.

"Noct," he says. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Better than alright, I think. I saw a doctor, played them your clip and they scanned my throat for me. Turns out I have these weird little extra flaps of skin in my windpipe. Really gross. Or, I guess, I _had_."

"Had?"

"They lasered them off, there and then."

Ignis sits. Even amongst the wealthy elites, medical attention being that swift and decisive is unusual. "So they think those were making you snore?"

"It might still be a nose thing. That'd be harder to fix. But it can't have hurt, and might make things better. Guess you'll find out later."

"I guess so."

"You in the archives?"

"Of course." Ignis smiles. It's absurd, really. As a member, he's given full access to the online archives via his datalinks. He doesn't _need_ to be in the archives to read up on all the information he could possibly desire. But there's something wonderful about being amidst the physical copies -- all these beautifully bound books, the tactile sensations of reading words inked onto real paper. An immense luxury. And he's clearly not the only one to feel that way. There are always other people in here, hunched at the desks or hooked up to the terminals. The professors who've merited actual offices in the Institute, or diligent students, or other hobbyists. It's a congenial way to work.

"I can be outside the Institute in about ten minutes, if you'd like to break for lunch?"

Oh. Ignis's materials are still scattered across his borrowed desk out there. "Can you make it fifteen?"

"Sure. See you soon, Specs."

A nickname? Not a particularly inventive one, but said with enough fondness that Ignis decides he likes it. "Looking forward to it."

\--

With the absence of Noctis's snoring, Ignis sleeps throughout the night.

That isn't the best benefit to come from it; _Noctis_ now sleeps through the night, and seems visibly rejuvenated by the experience. He's more awake in the mornings, Ignis observes for himself. And after about a week, Noctis tells him delightedly that he doesn't think he's ever slept so well or so long, can't remember when he last felt so good.

A blessing, like so much else.

\--

The room Noctis gave him in his apartment is a rather good substitute for the archives, even if it isn't in the thick of the action, so to speak. The windows admit a lot of light, and on Noctis's urging Ignis has furnished it tastefully to his needs. A solid wooden desk, stained a rich mahogany and topped with imitation leather. A chair that conforms nicely to Ignis's shape, supportive and comfortable. Ignis's favourite chaise longue from his own apartment, along with some of his instruments, books and art. Bookshelves. A soft mat suitable for stretching exercises. The room verges on being cluttered, really, but Ignis has to admit it's very comforting to have all these things to hand.

And he often loses track of time, now, sitting at his desk with one of his cats on his knee and a pile of intriguing research to read through.

A knock on his door brings him to the surface again. "Hmm?"

Noctis pokes his head around the door. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." It's Noctis's place, but he's been insistent on designating this room as entirely Ignis's. It makes Ignis feel warm, every time Noctis makes so firm a point of asking permission. "You're home early."

"Actually, no, I'm home late. I made you a coffee." Noctis sets a brimming mug down on the desk, as Ignis hurriedly checks the time and marvels at how late it's gotten -- how had he not heard Noctis's return? "Good research?"

"Yes. I'll make dinner," Ignis says, carefully urging Andrei off his lap. "Sorry--"

"Don't be sorry, I ordered us food. I wouldn't have disturbed you, except if you've been working all day then I bet you need to stretch and rest your eyes."

A fine sentiment, but Ignis is here to _serve_ Noctis. His time is not really his own, no matter the polite fiction Noctis seems to be maintaining. He's being paid to be here to fulfil all Noctis's needs and he shouldn't forget that. "All the same. Tell me as soon as you come home, please."

"Mm." Noctis points down at the magazine Ignis has set to one side. "What's this red bit?"

Ignis scowls at the notation across Professor Croft's article. "I think there's a problem in the proof. It looks as if the author is assuming the inclusion of a variable but hasn't actually thought to include it."

"Could be a misprint?"

"That's far more charitable a notion than mine. I assumed the author had made an error. Perhaps I'll write to the magazine and ask them."

Noctis places a hand on Ignis's shoulder. "You do that. Meanwhile, I wanted to invite one of my friends over tomorrow. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course, it's your home. Should I cook?"

"Please! Prompto's so hyped for your cooking, I keep telling him how great you are." Noctis lets his hand shift, slumps forward against Ignis to hug him from behind. "He's my best friend, and he's _so_ curious about you."

Oh, heavens. "Does he know that I'm--"

"A Companion, yep." Noctis's arms tighten. "It's cool. He gets it. You'll like him."

\--

'Prompto' is a slim, freckled young man with heavily styled blonde hair and a lot of nervous tics. He rubs at his noise, fidgets with his wristbands, taps his feet. He makes a fuss of the cats as soon as he sees them, and insists on taking a few snapshots of them with his phone. He smiles out a shy hello at Ignis when introduced, but seems relieved when Noctis suggests playing a few rounds of Iron Fist.

Ignis decamps to the kitchen as they play, and finds himself smiling with fond recollection when he hears the game over music. On Noctis's advice, the meal isn't the stout hearty dish Ignis might otherwise have made based on Noctis's usual preferences. This meal is instead a light, peppery green curry, one that will be filling enough to please Noctis but not heavy and starchy enough to concern his more calorie-concerned friend.

"Oh my _god_ ," Prompto says, one mouthful into the curry. "Noct wasn't kidding."

"No?"

"This is incredible. Did you train with chefs at the Companion house?"

Ignis smiles. "I learned the basics from my mother, actually. And most of the rest is simple experimentation."

"Damn. I mean, I can feed myself but not like this." Prompto takes another mouthful, and makes a happy noise. "So good."

"I told you," Noctis says, and under the table his hand pats Ignis's knee. "Better than anything at the Citadel."

Prompto swallows. "Certainly a lot better than anything on Newhall."

"I dunno, I like fish."

"Fish, sure." Prompto looks at Ignis. "I mean, fish once in a while, that's fine. On Newhall, it's _always_ fish."

So Prompto and Noctis are comrades from Newhall, Ignis thinks. "As I understand it, Noctis probably provided half those fish himself."

The hand on his knee squeezes. "I wish. Couldn't fish as much as I'd like."

"He means," and Prompto puts on what must be an imitation of Noctis's voice, "couldn't fish all day erryday."

"Should I worry I'm going to lose you to the nearest river?"

Noctis wrinkles his nose. "Only the way I'd lose you to an observatory."

"A fair point."

They talk, more, over the meal. Ignis learns that Prompto is an enthusiastic amateur photographer, a keen technophile, and a sharpshooter. The latter skill must have been developed on Newhall; despite Ignis's gentle coaxing, he can't persuade either Noctis or Prompto to share much about their lives there.

Ignis clears away the dishes, and to his surprise Prompto offers to help. It's only when Noctis conspicuously drifts into his bedroom 'to fetch that book' that Ignis realises that Prompto is deliberately seeking a private word.

Oh.

"So," Prompto says, and Ignis braces himself: how serious is he about Noctis, is he just playing Noctis for a fool so he can get at Noctis's money, all the concerns a friend might have in these circumstances. "Noct's birthday is next week."

"I… which day is it?" Of course the House has a profile on Noctis, but Noctis's birthday has always been a large and rather annoying blank on that page. Ignis had tracked down a birthday _month_ via the datafeeds, but otherwise Noctis's online birth information is frustrating in its vagueness. "And do you have plans?"

"Thursday. His Dad'll take him out on the Saturday, always does on the nearest weekend. And I'll see him for lunch. I figure you'll want to do something nice for him in the evening."

"Yes, thank you. I'll do my best to make it memorable for him." Ignis's mind races: what gift to get Noctis, who can afford anything he wants?

"You really didn't know which day it was?" When Ignis shakes his head, Prompto laughs. "It's a guess, really. He was born on Newhall, out in the sticks, in the middle of a combat zone with no telecomms. And the days there don't match up to Sihnon's exactly. So it's _roughly_ his birthday."

Ignis is struck with a sudden -- dizzying -- sensation of how _alien_ it must be to grow up on a planet that isn't as civilised and ordered as Sihnon, where even things as fundamental as the calendar can be shaky and ill-counted. "Still, it's good to know when he chooses to mark it."

"Yup. And he thinks I'm in here giving you the third degree, so I'm gonna need to slide before he comes in to rescue you."

"Without interrogating me in the slightest?"

Prompto rubs at his jaw, in one of those nervous tics of his. "Nah. Noct's not exactly easy to fool, and it _looks_ like you really like him. You could have strung him along for years without… moving in, getting him to fix his sleep problems, bringing your _cats_ to live here."

"I dare say they all could be ploys designed to fool him into thinking I'm sincere. And fixing his sleep allows _me_ to sleep, so that's merely enlightened self-interest."

"Maybe. I dunno." Prompto rubs his finger under his nose. "Buuuut, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming this isn't some Companion trick to bleed him dry."

"...thank you. It isn't."

"Good." Prompto grins. "C'mon, then, let's hurry so we can go kick his ass at Iron Fist."

\--

There's little a man like Noctis can't afford for himself. And so, Ignis resorts to sentimentality.

"What's this?"

"A gift." When Noctis looks at him with obvious surprise, Ignis smiles. "It's your chosen birthday, after all."

"...Prompto blabbed, didn't he?"

"Perhaps. And tonight I will take you out for dinner, since your schedule permits."

Noctis's eyebrows raise just a little. "Okay. You know you didn't have to get me--"

"Open it, will you?"

"Right, right." Noctis opens the box, and then his eyebrows rise even further. "Oh my _god_."

Ignis wasn't sure if it was a good choice. But Noctis had seemed intrigued, and it had the family connection too. "Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it." Noctis lifts the pendant out, the fine chain dangling below. "When you said your mom bought you yours, I figured you meant years ago."

"I did. They're not made any more. I had a fine time tracking down a duplicate, I assure you."

"Put it on me?"

Ignis does so, settling the tiny skull pendant just below Noctis's collarbone -- he's obtained a slightly longer chain than on his own, on the basis that perhaps Noctis wouldn't want his so visible. "And now we match."

"Yeah." Noctis looks _delighted_ , thank heavens. "It's cheesy as hell, and I _seriously_ love it. Thank you."

They kiss. Noctis is mostly-dressed; still sockless, shirt half-buttoned. And he has a meeting in the Citadel, Ignis knows, in about an hour and a half.

But it's Noctis's birthday, and Noctis murmurs that he'll be forgiven being late, and so Ignis is fully willing to be drawn back into bed. If this experiment of spending every night with Noctis is supposed to weary him of Noctis's presence, then it's failing entirely. Ignis still finds himself breathless with delight at Noctis's eagerness, finds wonder in the way their kisses can span a gamut from slow and soft to harsh and urgent. Noctis, stripped of everything but his smile and that new pendant, all his attention focused on Ignis's pleasure at his hands, is a potent drug indeed.

When Noctis does leave, a few hundred kisses later, Ignis sets about his careful plans for the day. Baking, first of all, then setting up the feeders for the cats, confirming that evening's reservation, and then--

Well. That's unexpected. A message from a name Ignis recognises, asking to meet him in the Institute that afternoon, in relation to some research.

Ignis considers his plans anew, and reconstructs them to accommodate an hour or so at the Institute.

\--

The restaurant that Ignis takes Noctis to is a relatively high-end one, which specialises in fish and rare meats. Ignis didn't choose it for the menu so much as for the fact that it's one of the more discreet locations for lovers in all the city; Ignis has been here before himself, but only with friends, and had admired the little paper-walled booths that allow a lot of privacy for dining couples or groups.

It's romantic, too, soft candlelight, hanging tree boughs heavy with sweet blossoms above their heads, and well-trained staff who allow them plenty of time to linger over each course.

"I like this," Noctis comments, sipping at the citrus liqueur that accompanies a spiced beef and asparagus dish. "I don't really drink much alcohol, usually."

"So I've noticed." Wealthy men usually have some sort of collection of spirits or wines in their houses; Noctis seems only to have cans of soda and coffee. "Is there a story behind that?"

"Only that I never got in the habit. Didn't wanna get drunk and horny on Newhall."

Ignis tips his head, encouragingly. "Oh?"

"You know I don't like talking about it."

"I'm just curious, Noct."

"Fine. It sucked, alright? I knew I fancied guys, and wished I fancied women. But I had a job to do, so I stayed and made damn sure nobody knew what I liked."

"And then you came back to Sihnon, and hired a male Companion."

"I told my dad, first." Noctis took another sip. "He said, well, after he had the obligatory minor freakout that I stayed out there so long with that secret, he pointed out that we'd been loosening those stupid laws up for as long as I've been alive. Instead of ending up in a labour camp for years, now _those_ men get issued a fine and one night in a cell to contemplate their choices. Progress." Noctis pulls a sour face, puts down the drink. "Anyway, we're pushing for tolerance as much as we can, and since I'm _me_ maybe that's another push, an example."

"So hiring me was--"

"Dad said, son, you can hire _anyone_ you like. Hire the prettiest guy you can find. Who gives a shit what bigots back on Newhall make of it?"

Ignis frowns. "That's a nice sentiment, but a little idealistic."

"That's what I thought, but I went back to Newhall, and… I dunno, either people are scared to say anything, or they don't believe it, or maybe they don't even know what happens here on Sihnon." Noctis shrugs. "I got no hassle about it, anyway. Yet. So, can we talk about something else?"

It's Noctis's birthday, and Ignis doesn't want to make Noctis any more uncomfortable than he already clearly is. "Well, I went to the Institute today."

"Shocking," Noctis says, immediately grinning in a way that's more fond than mocking.

"I hadn't planned to."

"What, muscle memory took your feet there all by themselves?"

"No, I had a meeting. With Professor Croft -- you remember that article, with the missing variable?"

Noctis narrows his eyes. "Vaguely."

"In the magazine. You encouraged me to write in with a correction. They passed it along, and Professor Croft got a hold of my details in the Institute membership list and wanted to meet me."

"Huh. Well, you're still alive, so clearly he wasn't mad."

"She, and no, she was quite grateful. Thought it was embarrassing that she hadn't caught it herself and that it had gone to print that way." 

The door slides open, and a staff member bows. The empty dishes are taken away, and replaced by a selection of steamed dumplings, the shells so paper-thin it's possible to discern the shapes of the ingredients within. That done, the door slides shut again.

"In fact," Ignis adds, "she was curious about who my patron was, and what I was researching, and if I knew of several research grants in my field. A very edifying conversation, all in all."

"Cool." Noctis splits a dumpling with his chopsticks. "Gotta say, every time you talk about people there they always sound a little too good to be true. You want half of this? I think it's mushroom and… uh, shrimp, looks like."

"Perhaps the less pleasant ones don't waste their breath talking to a mere hobbyist." Ignis takes half of the dumpling, blows on it to cool it a little. "Anyway. Food for thought. As it were."

Noctis hasn't been cautious enough with his own half of the dumpling, and flaps his hand hurriedly in front of his mouth, sucking in air. "Shit. Hot." He swallows, and Ignis winces -- that bit of food is likely scorching its way down Noctis's gullet, if it was too hot in his mouth -- and then Noctis sighs, as if in relief. "Glad you're making friends there."

"Me too." Ignis refills the water glasses, and lets Noctis drink. Time to shift the topic again, he thinks. "So, what did Prompto get you?"

\--

When Noctis comes home and slumps silently into a hug that requires actual strength on Ignis's part to hold him up, it's not precisely _unprecedented_. But it is concerning, and once Noctis seems in a mood to speak, Ignis asks the reason.

"Gotta go to Newhall," Noctis says. "Ugh. Even the fastest ship, even if it only takes a couple of days to subdue things, it's gonna be take week and a half."

A week and a half is a relatively long absence, but the shudder Ignis suppresses is for 'subdue'. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No! Hell, no, it's not your battle, and I'm not putting you in that sort of danger. You're not a fighter."

"I am, actually, skilled in self-defense and quite competent in fighting with daggers and--"

"You're not _border_ -skilled. No rules out there, no mercy." Noctis visibly inhales, calming himself before Ignis's eyes. "No, anyway. You stay here. I mean, on Sihnon. Please."

"Very well."

"I'm gonna miss you so much," Noctis says, and then his cheeks pink, as if he's embarrassed. "I mean, not just the sex and the food, you know that, right?"

Ignis kisses Noctis; for all his skill with words, it's still hard for him to articulate his feelings. Mostly because he's not sure Noctis will believe his in his sincerity. "I'll miss you too."

"Pfft, you'll spend the whole time in the archives and you won't even notice I'm gone." Noctis is smiling, however. "But you'll be here when I get back."

"Waiting, with dinner, massage, whatever you need."

Noctis leans forward, half-falls into another hug. "Good to know."

\--

Noctis's absence is _strange_ , mostly. Ignis stays in Noctis's apartment, because there seems little point in disrupting the cats by moving them out and then back in. And in the days, it's easy to forget Noctis won't be coming home, to forget he's not merely working a little late at the Citadel or attending a meeting in the city. Ignis diligently practises his music, keeps on top of the latest news and gossip, keeps himself fit to the standards of his Companion license requirements. He visits the Institute every other day, follows whichever threads of information fascinate him on any given day, nips into the Companion house to check in with everything there.

But the evenings and the nights, without Noctis there to talk to, to _live_ with, are more lonely than Ignis had expected. He's grown so accustomed, in such a short time, to sharing his life.

He drinks down whatever tiny shreds of information he can glean about what Noctis is doing. He tracks the passage of the freight ship Noctis is on, until it docks on Newhall, and then scours the news for mentions of Newhall. There's not much to go on; some whispers of bandit uprisings, then a report that includes a line about the successful maintenance of operations despite the 'recent' troubles, and then, at the beginning of the second week, nothing.

In an attempt to distract himself, he arranges a trip to Sihnon's second city, Arcaya, and visits his family for a day. It's certainly diverting, catching up on everything; they own a number of properties now and Ignis finds himself being hauled around to the latest acquisitions to admire them. Ignis's mother chatters on, in her way, about her charity works and her favourite restaurants, and Ignis tells her about his life in return.

Ignis's parents had both been Companions, had fallen in love when Ignis's father had been traded from one Companion House to another. They'd both worked until Ignis was about five years old, had been proud of him for his entire career, and he could tell them _anything_ that wouldn't break client confidentiality. If anyone might understand, they might.

"I'm living with a client. A three-month contract," he says, over dinner. "Currently in the middle of the second month."

Ignis's parents both regard him speculatively. His mother reaches over and pats his hand. "You must like this client a great deal."

"I do. Too much, truthfully. You know, he's paying for me to be there, but he treats me like… well. As if I'm a boyfriend."

"Ah"

"Of course I know he's still my client. He's paying for me to give him my time and attention, to be a fantasy, not a human being. And yet, I wish it were… different." Ignis sighs. "It's hopeless, isn't it."

"No, not hopeless." Ignis's father clears his throat. "Perhaps if this contract goes well, you'll renew. Longer contracts. Some people do that, over and over."

"Yes. Perhaps."

Ignis's mother reaches out, smooths some of Ignis's hair back. "Love strikes us all, sooner or later. I'm glad he treats you kindly."

It's not encouragement. "Don't worry. I'm not fool enough to think he's going to whisk me off my feet, in some romantic fashion. Realistic goals, always."

"Good." She smiles. "Well, then, here's to realistic goals."

\--

Ignis gets one day's warning, from a tired-looking Noctis on the ship he's travelling back in. It's enough; Ignis shops briefly for food, sets up the apartment, and when Noctis gets home Ignis kisses him thoroughly at the door.

"For once I managed to sleep on the way back," Noctis says, looking rather more awake than he had on the vidscreen. "Must be that snoring surgery. I'm gonna shower before anything, though."

"There's a bath drawn. Be a shame to waste it," Ignis says.

The rose petals are a ridiculous, overblown gesture, but as planned they make Noctis laugh out loud and then insist on Ignis getting into the bath with him.

Ignis isn't fond of athletic bath sex -- it's always a concern, the way the water slops about and risks flooding the bathroom floor -- but it's a good place for foreplay, and cleaning someone is definitely a form of prolonged foreplay even before hands slide into more intimate places. The two of them make it back to the bed, towels flung over the bedding to protect it from the wetness of their skin. They take it as slowly as either of them can stand, trading kisses all the way, hands tangled together, Ignis's hips hitched up high so his legs can circle Noctis's waist.

Afterwards, cuddled together, Noctis's head tucked under Ignis's chin comfortably, Ignis realises how relieved he is that Noctis came home at all, given the danger he must have been in.

And then considers that thought again, carefully. Is this his 'home', now? Noctis's place?

"I spoke to the Companion House," he says, quietly.

"Mmm?"

"They're adding the last two weeks onto the end of the contract, since you weren't here to benefit from them."

Noctis lifts his head, looking puzzled. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yes. I was quite insistent." Cor had argued that it wasn't Ignis's or the Companion House's fault if Noctis took out the contract and then absented himself for part of it. Still. It had been a _very_ expensive contract, and Ignis _had_ spent a good chunk of his time over the previous fortnight refreshing his non-sexual Companion skills, so in the end Cor had thrown his hands up and given in. It looked generous, and that was something that made the Companion House look good.

Noctis dips his head, curls back into Ignis's embrace. "If it never ends, it'll be too soon," he says, and then yawns. "Mm. Can I nap before we eat?"

"Anything you want, Noct." Ignis kisses the top of Noctis's head, glad to have him close.

\--

Even with an additional two weeks grace, Ignis finds himself mentally counting down the remaining time he has for this contract. Noctis takes Ignis along with him to a formal evening event not long after his return from Newhall -- a socialite's birthday party, one which Noctis says he agreed to attend only as a favour to a friend -- but otherwise admits he'd rather stay _in_ with Ignis as often as he can. Ignis therefore settles rather happily into the routine that emerges again; days of study and practise and research, evenings in Noctis's company. 

He cooks, frequently, enjoying the way Noctis's face lights up in response to good food. They play videogames, watch movies, cuddle on the sofa with the cats sprawled out nearby, have long rambling chats about everything and nothing. If Noctis seems especially tense, Ignis provides massages, coffee, sympathy.

It _should_ feel like work, attending to the needs of a client day in and day out, but it doesn't. It helps that there's so much mutual desire, of course, but good -- frequently excellent -- sex alone can't account for how _happy_ he is just knowing Noctis wants him there.

Noctis manages to surprise him, one evening, when Ignis gets back from the Institute. Dinner is on the table, to judge by the domes covering the plates. Candles are lit. Noctis is dressed up, more than he normally would be in an evening.

"I… did I miss an important date in my diary?" Ignis asks, as Noctis grins and pulls out a chair invitingly.

"Mm. Sort of. It's been a year."

Ignis blinks. A year since Noctis's first appointment? "No, that's in a week and a half."

"A year since I got back from Newhall and told my Dad I was gonna hire a male Companion."

Aha. "Well worth celebrating, then."

"And that evening, I went and looked at the website for your House, and thought, I'll pick _him_. And then it took a few days to work up the courage to place a booking, and then I waited for a week for the appointment." Noctis pushes the chair in as Ignis sits. "And I knew you'd remember the date for that, but I wanted to surprise you a bit."

"I'm certainly surprised." Ignis taps the dome over the plate in front of him. "And you--"

"I cooked."

Ignis stares as Noctis rounds the table to his own seat. Noctis never cooks. He orders in food, or Ignis cooks. Ignis wasn't sure Noctis knew how to cook at all.

"Seriously." Noctis grins. "I followed a recipe, but, well. Be nice, I'm not good at this."

"I look forward to it."

Noctis gestures. "Come on, then, take a look."

Ignis lifts the dome. Beneath is what looks like well-grilled fillets of white fish, with unfamiliar steamed greens and a compressed disk of reddish root vegetables. There's a little splash of creamy sauce, speckled with dark herbs, over the fish, and a plume of some ferny, fennel-like plant stuck jauntily in the disk. The fragrances are complex -- fishy sweetness, crisp vegetation, herby starch -- but _delicious_. Ignis is rather pleasantly surprised, if he's honest.

"It both looks and smells good," Ignis says, truthfully. "Can I ask--"

"Everything's from Newhall. Dad was there last week, and I got him to bring me stuff back, vacuum-sealed." Noctis takes off his own dish; a mirror of Ignis's, except with a smaller cluster of greens. "The fish is an Iridian Gar, and I _wish_ I could catch these myself, but this is from one of the deep-sea fishing boats. That's water-moss with kelp, and this bit is a whole bunch of different lotus plants with Duscaen chestnut and ginger."

Ignis takes a cautious forkful of the moss-kelp greens, sniffs it, then tries it. Oh. Saltier than he'd expected, but rich and dark-tasting, almost velvety. Not like anything he's tasted on Sihnon in recent memory, certainly.

"I even got Dad to bring back the herbs and stuff." Noctis digs into his own fish, and makes an appreciative face. "Okay, I did good."

It's splendid too; falls apart as he touches it with his fork, tastes sweet, and the creamy sauce adds a herby tang that complements it well. "Noct, this is _astounding_. I had no idea you could cook like this."

"It's just doing what the recipe said," Noctis says, but he looks pleased. "I made a dessert for afterwards too."

"I feel very spoiled."

"Yeah, well." Noctis picks up another forkful. "You always make me things. And I _know_ , I know it's your job, blah blah blah--"

"Noct?"

"Yeah?"

"Shush. It's lovely."

\--

The days and weeks tick down, until Ignis realises there's barely two weeks left -- and only because of his negotiated extension. It sits in the back of his head, the awareness of that time. Noctis will offer another contract. Ignis is… oh, 95% certain of that. And the Companion House will _probably_ allow it.

He begs Noctis's permission to attend a social event at the Companion House. Perhaps he's underthinking this. Perhaps there are things he'd miss, were he not to return to taking a range of clients.

He listens to the chatter. Polite gossip, a lot of opinions couched in that slightly paternal fashion that infantilizes their clients: aren't they sweet, aren't they precious, aren't their problems and desires entirely predictable even if the client thinks they're so unique. Ignis feels a pang of nostalgia; there's something nice about being able to nurture and support multiple clients, definitely.

But Noctis would hate for Ignis to take on other clients. Even if Ignis only took on non-sexual appointments, expecting Noctis to believe in the absence of sex would be unfair. 

And having Noctis be happy feels, when Ignis weighs it up, more important than making small impacts on the happiness of several people.

It takes one drink before there's gentle prying about Ignis's situation from an entirely expected source.

"So. Extended contract, huh. When does it end?"

Ignis smiles the polite smile he's expected to. "The end of next week, actually."

"You looking forward to getting back to normality?"

"I… don't think I'll be returning to my pre-contract ways," Ignis admits. "This contract has been extremely satisfactory for both of us."

"You're gonna take up another contract with the same client?" Gladio huffs out an impressed sound. "Must be quite the guy. I couldn't do it, living with someone and never a moment to yourself."

Ignis shakes his head. "It's not like that. For a start, he has work most days, so I'm free to pursue my own interests during those hours."

"Yeah, even so."

"He gives me plenty of time to do as I please. He even gave me my own room."

Gladio tilts his head to one side. "Room?"

"As in, within his apartment, I have my own room, furnished as I please, with my possessions, and it locks and I am permitted to seclude myself within if I wish." Ignis leans in. "I have the only key. Obviously, I rarely even close the door, but knowing I _can_ … it's a comfort."

"Pfft, I bet you don't have the only key. He's just saying that."

"No, knowing him, I suspect I honestly do. And he even offered to let me sleep in there, if I wished."

Gladio snorts.

"You can be as cynical as you like. I find it sweet of him."

"You're gonna take up another contract, then. How long for, a year?"

"I… have no idea. We'll see what he offers, but I am _very_ happy with him." Ignis sets down his drink. He _knows_ the way Noctis treats him is beyond any expectation he should have, and it's infuriating to have Gladio act like it's just a fakery to keep him content. "Can't you at least pretend to be happy for me? I've a client who is handsome, charming, and who treats me with respect and kindness. That's the dream, I believe."

"No, no, you're right, I'm sorry." Gladio pats Ignis on the arm. "I'm just jaded. But good for you. Hope he keeps you. Now, c'mon, I wanna hear Dustin talk about the screamer who keeps hiring him."

\--

There's less than a week left until the end of the contract, and Ignis can _feel_ the awareness like a tension strung through him. He only relaxes when in the archives at the Institute, where he's making some excellent progress on his research. It's getting him noticed, too; he's pulled into a number of discussions with fellow researchers, thrilling conversations about the newest findings and the most breathtaking sets of speculation about what will be found next.

He loves Noctis -- at this point, Ignis sees little point in denying that his feelings are _love_ \-- and he loves pursuing this hobby. This life he has now, affording him both, is like a beautiful dream.

It's a terrifying thought that he might wake up and it'll all vanish.

"Specs," Noctis says, one night, in the darkness. "You're happy with me, right?"

"Yes?"

"The contract, uh, well, we should talk about--"

Ignis turns, pulls Noctis close. He's had no idea how to broach this topic, but now Noctis has: "I'm rather hoping you don't want me to leave."

He feels Noctis go slack in his arms. "Thank _god_ ," Noctis says, softly into Ignis's chest. "I thought maybe you were gonna tell me, thanks but no thanks, I'd rather not be exclusive any more."

"Don't be absurd."

Noctis squirms upwards, kisses Ignis firmly. "I'll put in a request for another contract. Longer, this time."

It's wonderful, knowing Noctis wants to keep him. It means he can _stay_ , can continue this blissful existence.

"I mean," and Noctis is smiling against Ignis's mouth, "you wouldn't want to disrupt the cats, they've just gotten comfy here."

"Perish the thought."

\--

There are a number of factors that need to come together for Ignis to rethink his choice, and then, the _day_ he is called in to go over the new contract with Cor, everything suddenly clicks together. Serendipity indeed.

And his path is _so_ clear, now.

Ignis studies the small mountain of paperwork and forms, carefully, and signs where needed. And then he sterns himself for his meeting with Cor.

"Sit," Cor says, with his usual abruptness. "Your client put in his request."

"I understand he asked for a year, this time?"

"Yes."

Ignis pushes the paperwork he's brought with him across the desk. "Before I sign that, I need to show you these."

It takes Cor a full five minutes to work his way through the pile. Ignis has stacked them in a careful order, so that the logic is obvious to Cor. There are questions, which Ignis answers as clearly and truthfully as he can.

Finally Cor makes a frustrated, huffing noise, and pushes the pile away. "I see."

"Of course, I will informally be continuing to--"

"Yes, yes, I can imagine. This is madness, Ignis, you do realise that. Years of work thrown away in one go. Have you even told your client?"

"Not yet."

"Don't you think you should?"

Ignis pulls the papers towards him, neatens the pile into a tidy cluster. "I wanted to verify with you first."

"I'm not happy, but your case is airtight. Go. Before I come around there and smack some sense into you."

Ignis picks up his pile, stands up, bows politely. "Thank you, Cor."

"Mm. Ignis?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favour, will you? Be _really_ happy."

\--

Noctis is practically vibrating with anticipation when Ignis gets home. "Did they approve the contract?"

"They did."

"Oh, thank _god_ , that means--"

"But I declined to sign it."

All that glee and sustained energy just visibly _vanishes_ as Noctis stares at him. Ignis has never fully understood the term 'crestfallen' before, but he suspects he's just seen the process of a crest falling. "You, oh. Oh. Well, um. Okay then, I guess--"

Ignis reaches out, touches Noctis's hand. He can't sustain this cruelty. "Wait. I declined because I can't accept the contract. It's no longer applicable. I'm not a Companion any more."

Another long, uncertain stare from Noctis. "You… what?"

"I quit." Ignis lets his fingers grip. "I'm not for sale any more."

To his surprise, Noctis sits down heavily, right there on the floor of his entrance hall. "You quit being a Companion?"

"I received an offer, which I wasn't sure of the sincerity of until the forms arrived. I've been offered a post as a research assistant with Professor Croft, at the institute." Ignis crouches, marvelling at how lost and confused Noctis looks. "She's permitting me to study for some qualifications while I'm assisting her. Professor Lee is sponsoring my application to the university for those, so I should be accepted without question."

"So you're gonna be a researcher?"

"I am."

Noctis grins, suddenly. "That's so cool. It's what you wanted, right?"

"I won't say I won't miss some aspects of being a Companion, but yes, I am cautiously jubilant. I gave up that life to be a Companion, and now, I'm giving up being a Companion for that life."

"So what does that mean for--"

"If you'll have me… well. I don't want to disrupt the cats, you understand."

Noctis pulls him in for a kiss. It's urgent, grateful even, makes Ignis sink down onto his knees so he can appreciate the intensity of Noctis's passion.

"Is that a yes?" Ignis asks, when Noctis lets him take a breath.

"It's a, shit, you could have not given me a heart attack. You're staying here, though, right?"

"Indeed. Free of charge, in fact."

"You don't have to, I dunno, give notice? Organise something with the House?"

Ignis chuckles. "I've a great deal of holiday accrued, and Cor waived the last few days since it's not as if I'm going off to a rival House somewhere. He also knows I wanted to continue _us_ , and I'll be under a lot of scrutiny from the taxman to make sure we've not formed a private financial agreement instead. But that's not a problem."

"Oh." Noctis pulls Ignis in for another brief kiss. "Damn, I don't even know what to say. This is amazing."

"I understand," Ignis says. "Of course, I'll continue to be discreet from now on -- I'm not expecting you to formally acknowledge our relationship, under the circumstances."

Noctis blinks, owlishly. "Huh?"

"You're a Prince. I'm an ex-Companion, and as such hardly--"

That produces a very rude noise. "Ignis. I _literally_ don't care. You're smart, skilled, gorgeous. Why should I be ashamed of you?"

"Noctis… I slept with clients for money. No matter how you dress that up, no matter how respected my profession is, it places my kind _apart_ from polite society."

"So? I kill people sometimes, that puts me apart." Noctis shrugs. "Is this one of these nuance things I'd understand if I'd grown up here?"

"...maybe so."

"And, look, I'm not saying I'm gonna parade you around back on Newhall, but… I'm with my dad on this. Who gives a _shit_ what the bigots there think? I can outfight any man there, and if I have to, I will." Noctis shifts, stands up, hauls Ignis up with him. "I love you, you know?"

It's said almost gruffly, but it nearly makes tears spring into Ignis's eyes. "I… oh."

"And I get to _keep_ you." Noctis grins, then, and grabs Ignis's hand, pulls him towards the main room. "I got us some stuff to celebrate the new contract, but this is even better. Wanna go out for dinner?"

"If you like."

"No." Noctis stops, rounds on him. "If _you_ like. From now on, you tell me if you like things, if you want things, it is not all about me, you get it? You're not my servant. You're my boyfriend. Different."

Oh. Oh heavens. Ignis can see, immediately, that he's going to have a lot more to adjust to than he expected. "Then you'll have to accept my paying rent and utilities and so on, to be fair--"

Noctis laughs. "Whatever you want, Specs. Dinner? We can even split the bill."

"...absolutely." Ignis can't seem to fight down the grin, a mirror of the one on Noctis's face. "That sounds _exactly_ right to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis visiting Newhall with Noctis would be *fascinating* but I doubt I'll get around to writing it. :D
> 
> Thank you all for reading this self-indulgent x-over fic! <3


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